


The Doppelganger Effect

by MalMuses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon Flashbacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Case Fic, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Drinking, Eldritch Gods - Freeform, Eye Trauma, First Kiss, Gore, Horror, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Original Character Death(s), Pining, Possession, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam's Taco Farts, Slow Burn, Talking Dean Kevin Tran, Tentacle Monsters, Witches, casturbation, excessive bleeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 65,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses
Summary: Dean had been having a pretty great week, all in all. There had been that case up in Dodge City where he’d worn a cowboy hat, he'd made homemade burgers for dinner, and best of all? Cas was back from the Empty. Alive, unharmed, and in the bunker. Things were back to normal.Then they showed up to ruin things—Dean and Cas, Version 2.0. They're not just different, they're happy. Not to mention very...coupley.Thrown from their own world with magic unheard of since Purgatory, the doppelgangers need Team Free Will’s help—or is it Dean and Cas that need theirs?Suddenly, Dean is stuck in a minivan with two angels that hate each other, a (pretty awesome) copy of himself, and his gassy little brother. Through magic mirrors, ill-advised pacts with Eldritch gods and rather too many gas-station tacos, Dean and his angel face down the past, and decide on their future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place during the Season 13 timeline, specifically after the sixth episode, ‘Tombstone’. However, in this fic, there is no Jack. You can choose to think of it as divergent from the Season 12 finale if you wish, or just assume that Jack is elsewhere. I have left this up to you, reader!
> 
> This fic makes use of the doppelgänger trope. A doppelgänger is defined as “a double of a living person”. To make this fic easier to read, when we have characters that share names, I have designated the prefix ‘Alt-’ for the Doppelgänger characters. So after a brief introductory period, you can read the fic as having five main characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas, the last two being the two from the mirror universe. Hopefully, this helps keep things super clear for everyone.
> 
> \---
> 
> Art
> 
> The absolutely stunning art that accompanies this fic was produced by EL. You can find her on tumblr here. Working with her has been an awesome experience, and I’m delighted to have not only fantastic art for my story, but a new friend too.
> 
> \---
> 
> Thanks
> 
> I have so many people to thank for this fic. Firstly, I have to gush about jscribbles, who was one of the first to read this thing and yell at me until I finished it. There are many scenes here that would not be the same without her input, and lets not even start on the typos. Thank you, boo. You da best. 
> 
> I also met a whole host of other amazing people during this bang, who stepped up as beta’s and cheerleaders. If you have time, please do go check out SOBS, andimeantitosting, Ellen_of_Oz, plaid-and-devils-traps, PieDarling, and genderdica. 
> 
> I’d also like to thank muse and jojo, who devote hours of their lives to running this Bang. They are so overworked and underappreciated, and I can’t thank them enough.
> 
> Art Masterpost: [Here](https://heart-eyescastiel.tumblr.com/post/180180134716/my-art-for-the-the-doppelg%C3%A4nger-effect-written)

 

 

**March 2018 - Earth**

 

Dean’s obnoxious whistling of Steve Miller Band's “Space Cowboy” stretched all the way from the highway, through the small town of Lebanon, and right past the front door. He clattered jauntily down the iron stairs into the bunker, still humming to himself. He had a spring in his step and a cowboy hat atop his head.

Behind him, Sam and Cas followed with slightly less enthusiasm.

They had been cooped up in the Impala for several hours, heading back from Dodge City where their most recent case had been (a case which Dean had enjoyed perhaps a little too much). Sam was tired and stiff from sitting with his legs under his chin, and Cas had concerns of his own.

“Is he going to let me take this off now?” Cas gestured to the straw cowboy hat on top of his dark, messy hair. He spoke to Sam, but his eyes followed Dean as he swaggered jauntily off toward his bedroom.

“Just...do me a favor and wear it a bit longer. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.” Sam’s response was resigned. His eyes followed his brother as he exited, seeming amused but tinged with sadness.

Raising an eyebrow, Cas turned his head once Dean was entirely out of sight and looked at Sam questioningly as they finished descending the stairs.

“You were gone, man. Dean wasn’t himself until you came back,” Sam explained, stretching out his lengthy frame into one of the antique chairs at the war table.

It hadn’t been that long since Cas had been brought back into their lives, woken from his supposedly eternal slumber in a place none were supposed to return from. Dean had jumped right back into life, his mourning stuttering suddenly to a halt, but Sam hadn’t forgotten it.

Cas tilted his head at Sam, a thoughtful wrinkle bunching up the skin between his eyebrows. After a minute standing stoically at the edge of the room, he moved a few steps in Sam's direction. He wet his lips as if he'd merely been thinking how to phrase a question.

Dean strode back into the room before Castiel could speak, returning from ditching his bag onto his bed. He clapped his hands eagerly at his brother and best friend.

“So, who wants homemade burgers?”

Sam gave a thumbs up. Cas continued to look at Sam for a moment, contemplative. It seemed that he decided to drop whatever he'd been about to say, turning instead to answer Dean, who was looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t eat,” Castiel pointed out, before he smiled and added, “however, I am not entirely immune to a from-scratch Dean Winchester cheeseburger, so go ahead.”

Dean rubbed his hands together with glee. “It’s been a good couple of days guys, it really has,” he commented, striding towards the kitchen. “Why don’t you get the beers going, Sam? Keep these good vibes going as long as we can, huh?”

Turning to see his brother tying an apron around his waist while he stood in the doorway, Sam rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Dean was still wearing the cowboy hat.

“Sure, Dean. Whatever you want,” Sam agreed with a sigh.

 

**March 2018 - Alternate Earth**

 

“Steak with everything for me, fries on the side. Would the chef throw together a cheeseburger for him? I know it’s not on the menu, but he’s not really a foodie,” Dean explained, indicating the empty seat opposite.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem, Sir.” The waiter inclined his head, collected Dean’s menu and turned back to the kitchen.

It had taken Dean some time to pick out the restaurant. He liked food, almost any food, but for a special day, he wanted a special place—somewhat hampered by his date’s general lack of concern about eating in general. A cheeseburger though, he could usually be tempted by. The eatery was more upscale than they’d regularly visit, with cotton tablecloths and dark wood paneling. A pianist tinkled in the corner over the noise of a contented dinner crowd.

Craning his neck to look out of the fancy restaurant window, Dean could see that Cas was just outside the door, finishing up on the phone. He relaxed back into his chair with some visible relief.

Reaching for the frosted beer glass in front of him, he took a deep swig, using his other hand to tap his pocket and check the contents through his fitted dress pants.

Satisfied, he took another quick look to check that Cas was on his way through the door, before reaching under the table to pull out a bouquet of brightly colored wildflowers. They had been tied together by hand with a short string.

“Cas!” Dean called, standing to wave the angel over to the table. The angel hurried the last couple of steps, throwing his arms around the hunter in a brief hug.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I was trying to call Sam to see if he’d had any luck suppressing the witch’s power. He's too busy to answer, so I guess he's working on it.” Smiling as he pulled back, Cas dropped a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek.

“No problem, sunshine.” Dean’s smile was besotted, looking at Cas as if he was the only person in the room. “I took a little detour on the way here to pick these for you. What’s an anniversary without flowers?”

Dean held forward the large bunch of pretty blooms, presenting them with a slightly cheesy flourish.

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed, grinning toothily as he took them. “You remembered my favorites.”

“Of course, baby.” He caught Cas’s hand in his own and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as they lowered themselves into their seats. “I went ahead and ordered for us, so we can just relax and enjoy our evening. I got tickets for the show you wanted, after that the night is on you.”

Laying the flowers on the table next to his place setting, Cas reached his hand across the table as they settled. Dean reached back towards him and their fingers entwined on the tabletop as if by reflex.

“Five years,” Cas commented down toward their clasped hands, shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head as well. “It was rough for those first few, for sure....between Metatron and your buddy comedy with Crowley.”

“Oh? What about your little foray into demonhood?” Cas interjected with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t pin it all on me, Dean.”

“Like the Lucifer weeks were an easy ride? I know we spoke about it before you made the call, but living with it...man, it was rough. Lucifer isn’t a cuddler.”

They both laughed and relaxed, the memories now bygone and almost humorous.

“We made it, though,” Dean murmured affectionately, rubbing his thumb across the back of Cas’s hand. Looking up, he reached to take the angel’s other hand too, looking openly and lovingly at his date. “Somehow I got lucky enough that you let me love you for five whole years, angel, even during all those messes.”

Cas’s smile, stretching over his lips easily and with the expressiveness of any human, shone across the table. “It’s been an honor, Dean. I love you too.”

Shifting, Dean let go of one of Cas’s hands to reach down to his pocket. “Actually, love, I was going to wait until we’d eaten, but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Castiel turned to his bunch of wildflowers, stroking at the petals in appreciation while Dean gathered his thoughts.

“I was wondering if—” Dean’s voice was cut off by the screams of the restaurant patrons.

The air crackled, thick and heavy with magic as a furious looking woman, blood-covered and barefoot, burst into the room.

Overturning tables and screaming incoherently, she headed for Dean and Cas, casually eviscerating diners on the way. Around her wrists were a pair of handcuffs, thick and heavy like the kind found in dungeons. Broken chains hung from them.

 _“Dean!”_ In one quick movement, Cas had overturned their table, pulling Dean down behind it with him. “The witch, she escaped!”

Hunter instincts taking over, Dean pulled his handgun out of the waist of his smart slacks, even as his other hand grabbed his phone and dialed for his brother.

“You brought a gun to our anniversary dinner, Dean?” Cas questioned as he peeked over the top of the table. A flaming piece of debris flew past his head, leaving a trail of burning hair in its wake.

Dean quickly swatted at his lovers thick head of hair, making sure the flames were out.

“Of course I did Cas!” The call to Sam was met with no answer. “ _Shit._ ”

Mimicking the way the angel moved to peek over the table on his side, he saw that the woman stood about twenty feet away, her lips flying in a frenzy as she chanted up something awful.

Blue-green colored flames erupted around them, curling at the edge of their table-shield.

“Why do you always have to piss off the powerful women, Dean!” Castiel shouted over the hurricane-like noise of witch-fire, as dark, throbbing magic began to take hold of them.

“Women loved me once!” Dean protested loudly, shaking his head against the heavy, throbbing magic-sensation that was permeating the room. “You broke me, Cas. She wouldn’t be trying to kill us if I’d had sex with her!”

Castiel rolled his eyes, unable to help a tiny, amused curl to his lip before he turned his full focus to their fight.

 

**Earth**

 

“Alright! Extra cheese, and pickles on the side for you, cowboy,” Dean slid a plate onto the map table in front of Cas, slightly obscuring Eastern Russia.

Walking around to Sam’s side of the table, Dean dropped another plate on California. “And lots of leafy stuff for Bigfoot.”

Sam didn’t bother to conceal his bitch face, popping open beers for everybody. “Wouldn’t hurt you to eat a few more vitamins and a little less bacon, Dean. All those nitrates aren’t good for you.”

His older brother looked gravely offended, speaking around a full mouth as he carried his plate to the end of the table between the other two. “Beer has vitamins, Sammy!”

Cas picked up his burger and lifted it to his mouth. He had an almost hopeful look in his eyes, as if he was hoping that maybe, just this once, it wouldn’t taste like molecules. Before he bit down, he grunted and fumbled, dropping it back to the plate.

With a pained expression, a strangled yell came from Cas’s lips as he fell to his knees in front of his chair.

The brothers were on their feet in a split second, crouched in front of him.

“Can you hear that?!” The stricken angel’s eyes were scrunched shut, and he was shaking his head as if trying to rid it of a painful ringing.

“Hear what, Cas? What’s happening? Is it angel radio?” Dean’s hand rested, concerned, on Cas’s shoulder, mirth and burgers forgotten. Picking up the Cas’s fallen cowboy hat and placing it on the table out of the way, he looked over at Sam in panic.

“I don’t hear anything either,” Sam clarified. “What is it, Cas?”

Cas’s head jerked up, and his eyes flew open wide, looking at Dean as if he was terrified. “It’s us... it’s coming from you and me...”  He scrambled back from them, backing up until he was against a bookcase with one hand raised defensively, the other cradling his head.

Dean held his hands up cautiously. “Us? The noise is coming from us?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a confused look.

“From you and I, Dean!” Cas barked gruffly. “It sounds like atoms ripping, like the universe is...”

Cas trailed off, dropping his hand from his head slowly as he looked at the brothers. His mouth hung open slightly.

Sam looked over at Dean, following Cas’s line of sight. “Dean! Oh my God, Dean, your eyes are... they're glowing.”

A bright, piercing yellow light had begun to spill out from around the orbs of Dean’s eyes. The illumination emerged from his eye sockets as if his green gaze was being lit from behind by an intense golden torch.

Dean raised one hand to his face in surprise, the other pointing at Cas. “You too, Cas! You’re lit up like a Christmas tree.”

Against the bookcase, Castiel screamed.

 

**Alternate Earth**

 

Dean’s aim was perfect, but the witch-killing bullets in his gun did nothing. They disappeared into the witch’s flesh and she didn’t even slow down—just the same as they had when he, Cas and Sam had tried to take her down the week before.

“I guess those enchanted handcuffs Sam tried didn’t work,” Dean raised his voice to yell over the screaming restaurant patrons and roaring flames. “Any other ideas?”

“Nothing beyond killing her myself. I know Sam wanted to find the source of her power, but it’s too dangerous, Dean. We can’t let her take any more lives.”

Not waiting for an answer, Cas stood and leaped over the table. He landed already in motion toward the witch, white-blue grace beginning to rise up from his core.

He covered the space between them in five or six quick strides, reaching out to slam a palm against the woman’s head, intending to smite her from the Earth.

The blue-green flame that still raged all around them tugged at the edge of the angel’s suit jacket, creeping up his smartly ironed dress pants from a liquid pool on the floor. As Cas tilted his forehead down in focus, his vivid blue eyes glowed white.

Around him, the air in the restaurant distorted.

Time seemed to hold its breath for a moment. The flames froze as Cas tried to pound his grace into the woman’s mind. Nothing in the room moved. Plates ceased spinning in their mid-air arcs, diners faces stuck mid-scream, the sprinkler system overhead beginning to release raindrops that hung two feet from the ceiling and no further.

In the motionless vacuum, Cas saw the witch’s eyes turn to regard him. They were like a shark’s, dead and yet hungry. A grin curled at her lip, and he heard words in his mind.

_“I can’t kill you, Angel of the Lord, but I can send you away... Somewhere you won’t be able to cause me problems anymore. It might collapse the world, but... I’ll survive. You can’t win, for I am heeding the call; I am beyond space and time.”_

Her voice was a dull, inhuman chill; Cas could sense the void within the beast just from the sound. Whatever that creature was, she was no longer a witch; the woman was long gone, consumed by a malevolent force that was beyond even Cas’s understanding.

The suspended moment of time snapped, and suddenly everything happened at once.

The magical fire that had been trying to consume Dean and Cas throbbed, the beast’s voice ringing out with a language so old it was strange to the angel’s ears.

 

_“Mgahnnn, nilgh'rishuggogg!_

_Vulgtmor ilyaa!_

_Ahmgr'luh agl ahagl yar ahazath ng gpill ahagl ymg' gn'bthnknyth llll mg'lloig r'luhhor ot soth!”_

 

The blue-green fire engulfed Cas in a swoop, turning golden as it lit up his body like a burning effigy. As an angel, he could control much of what he experienced in his vessel. But this magic was old, and he was powerless against it; Pain consumed him as his skin blackened and blistered under the flames, grace pouring through cracks in his flesh.

“Dean!” Cas screamed, his voice full of agony and terror. “Dean, please— _Dean_!”

Before the blackness hit, the last Cas remembered was seeing his frantic lover vault over the table. Dean slid across the floor in a dive to reach him and wrap him in his arms, engulfed in the same torturous burn that was destroying Cas.

In the space between a blink, a golden light flashed and they were both gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Sam was frozen in the war room. He had no idea what to do—Cas was screaming continuously, curled up in a ball and cradling his head as if the sound was ringing from within it. Dean had dropped to his knees not far from Cas. Afraid, Sam watched as Dean shared the same golden illumination as the angel, accompanied by rapid convulsions.

“Sammy!” Dean gasped. “Help! Help us, please!”

For a huge, strong man, Sam felt powerless. He crouched between his two closest companions, one hand on each of their shoulders in futile comfort.

“I don’t know what’s happening, Dean! Cas... Cas! _Tell me what to do!_ ”

They all looked at each other helplessly as the air in the room grew electric, the hairs on their arms prickling up.

“Something is coming.” Cas panted, groaning in pain. He pressed the heel of one hand hard into his temple as he shuffled awkwardly towards Dean. Even amidst his own agony, he had to try and check on Dean.

He was reaching for Dean's shoulder when a rumbling sound began. Within seconds, something happened—the room flashed gold, the air bursting with a deafening cracking noise.

The three men flew through the air like poorly-stuffed ragdolls.

The room was suddenly pitch black and eerily silent.

Scrabbling to his feet, Sam cried out for his brother and friend. “Dean? Cas?”

Reaching along the floor in the dark, Sam encountered a flap of fabric—Cas’s trench coat.

“Cas! Buddy!” He hauled the angel upright and ducked his ear close to his mouth—a tiny groan gave him all the confirmation he needed. Alive. Propping him up against the wall, Sam shuffled carefully through the windowless room towards the wall panel that he was hoping would allow him to flick the lights back on.

After a few steps, Sam hit a foot. “Dean!”

Reaching down and forward, Sam fumbled for his brother's rib cage in the dark. Feeling it rise and fall with breath, he let out a relieved sigh.

Sam almost tripped on Dean’s prone feet. Reaching to move them from his path in the dark, he carefully pushed them out of the way; One, two feet... Three? Three feet? _Four?_?

“What the hell?!” Sam yelled, freaking out and dashing wildly to the wall, swinging for the light switch in a panic.

By some lucky miracle, the lights flickered and came on.

Sam immediately turned back to his brother. “Dean!” His eyes widened and he gulped. “... and Dean?”

Tangled on the floor in a heap, were two Deans.

One was slowly starting to raise his head from the floor, making a dramatic moaning noise. He looked exactly as Sam had seen him only seconds before.

The other Dean looked like hell. He was wearing a dark grey suit with a navy shirt, a patterned navy tie with thin grey stripes tied crisply at the neck. It looked like a fancy event suit with a vest, rather than the smart but plain FBI style suits he and his brother usually wore. The dashing look was entirely ruined though. This Dean’s body and face were covered in black soot and burn marks, his exposed skin darkly blistered and oozing. The suit jacket was scorched on every edge.

As the second Dean began to move, his groans came out low and agonized. “Cas.... C-Cas?”

Spinning on the balls of his feet at the reminder, Sam looked to where he had propped up the angel. He had his eyes open now, the blue orbs reflecting a very clear relief to be alive. He looked awkward, his legs splayed out in front of him wide, his hands jammed up against the wall as he slumped.

Seeing that the Deans were standing on their own, Sam reached out a hand to Cas and helped him up.

“Cas,” Sam whispered tensely, nodding to his left to indicate behind him where the two Deans were standing in silence, blinking at each other with their mouths open. It was almost comical, the completely mirrored expression. “What’s going on?”

Cas’s expression wasn’t too far from the Deans’. Straightening out, he stepped up towards them.

“Dean—” Sam began.

“Cas!” the doppelganger Dean, in his burnt suit, lurched straight at the angel. The sheer delighted relief on his face forced Sam immediately into an almost respectful silence.

Cas froze, confusion pulling at his features as the Dean who was not quite the one he knew embraced him hard, the man’s burned hands gripping at the back of his coat and sliding up to the back of his neck. He squeezed Cas tight, mumbling something into his neck that Sam and Dean couldn’t quite make out.

Whatever he whispered make Cas's cheeks turn red.

“I thought... I thought you were done for, angel.” The new Dean seemed almost frantic with relief.

Feeling Cas’s surprise at his sudden reaction, the dirty and singed Dean pulled back, wincing. He stopped, looking up him up and down.

“You... you aren’t Cas. But you are.” The man looked stricken by his own vague assessment.

“I am Cas,” the angel intoned quietly, a frown creasing his brow as he studied the man in front of him. He sniffed the air deeply, as if reading every part of the new Dean, to Sam’s slight amusement.

“Yes,” he repeated. “I am Cas, but I am not _your_ Cas.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking over to his original brother to find him with the same expression.

“Not... my Cas,” the new Dean repeated dully. His sooty face fell, a ghostly heartbroken expression dancing across his eyes as he stepped back from the angel. “Well. Uh, I’m sorry then. I apologize for the confusion.”

Seeming to shake himself, the doppelganger turned to regard his twin. “So, what year is it?”

The original Dean stretched the crick out of his back from being thrown across the floor before he turned to his other self. “2018. You’re in the Men of Letters bunker, Lebanon Kansas. Uh, Earth.” He tilted his head, gauging the new arrival’s reaction.

The newcomer frowned in confusion. “Well, that sounds the same. This looks exactly like home.”

Cas stepped forward again. “If I may...” he squinted at the two Deans, before nodding to himself. “It seems like you suspect time travel, but I think we’re looking at another timeline entirely.”

All eyes turned to Cas.

“You both agree that it’s currently March of 2018, yes?” he questioned.

The Deans nodded.

“Right. Well, you are both the same age then, and come from the same origin point... but something changed. Look.”

Cas reached over, pointing to a red scar running horizontally around the new Dean’s neck under the soot, before moving his hand to indicate the same scar-free spot on the more familiar Dean.

“Where did you get that?” Cas questioned. His brow creased curiously, staring openly at the new Dean.

“The Darkness, Amara. She slit my throat.” He reached up to press his thumb to the scar through the dirt. “Cas— my Cas— he couldn’t heal it. When Chuck healed me up the scar was still there.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other before Dean cleared his throat. “Well, uh, The Darkness here, our Amara, she never hurt me. Not really. She seemed like she kinda liked me, in a strange way.”

“So, there are differences in our lives. I am you, but from a different timeline. An alternate world,” The new Dean commented, nodding slowly as he caught up with Cas.

The original Dean nodded as he agreed, “So you’re an alternate-Dean. Alt-Dean. That’s… weirdly cool.”

“What happened, Dean? Right before you came here?” Sam questioned Alt-Dean.

“A witch hit us with something. Some fire, some spell,” he responded dully. “Though I don’t know if she’s just a regular witch anymore, the stuff I saw was intense. Cas, my Cas, she, uh, she was killing him. Or that’s what it sounded like. I ran to him, I just...”

Alt-Dean trailed off, quiet for a moment, looking pained.

“Even though nothing I’d tried had hurt her, I didn’t want him to die alone.” His voice was flat and hollow then as he continued, his green eyes drifting back to the angel stood to his left. It seemed like he couldn’t quite bring himself to look directly at Cas in this world, but kept him in his peripheral vision at all times.

Sam and Dean nodded at each other, the witch part of Alt-Dean’s story making sense to them, even if little else did.

“I’m sure my alternate-universe self would rather you were here safe, Dean. Angels can take care of themselves as a rule,” Cas offered solemnly.

Suddenly, Alt-Dean turned fully toward Cas. His shoulders tensed as he took him in, and frustration began to roll off him in waves.  

“Don’t speak about us like you know us, Castiel. My Cas is—” Alt-Dean cut off, clenching his fists before he could continue. “You may be the same person technically, but you aren’t half what he is. That’s pretty clear already.”

Dean recognized the fury of misdirected grief and shock; something he was prone to himself. His doppelganger was continuing, barking almost threateningly at Cas.

“I’d have taken his place! I would rather be dead myself, have died by his side than be here right now with you! I have to get back. I have to find him—I can’t live without him again.”

Dean's eyes widened slightly at Alt-Dean's words, and he briefly dropped his gaze, looking uncomfortable. After a moment, his expression unreadable, he stepped up to touch Alt-Dean’s arm. “Hey, man, I know you’re upset right now. But yelling at Cas isn’t fair. It’s not his fault and you—we—both know that.”

The filthy and burned version of Dean met his gaze ferociously for a minute before he slowly deflated, seeing that Dean understood. “Right. Sorry, Cas...Castiel. You’re different here and you don’t understand what this is like. But that isn’t your fault.”

Sam regarded the sooty man thoughtfully, his gaze genuinely sympathetic. “Okay, so... how about we get you a shower and patch you up a bit,” he offered soothingly. “Everybody can calm down and we can meet back here to try and work out what happened, an start thinking of a way to send you back.”

They all seemed to be in agreement. Sam stepped forward to walk Alt-Dean down to the bunker bathrooms. Though, he supposed there was no need really, he already knew the way.

 

*******

 

“Sorry, Sammy,” Alt-Dean sighed as they moved into the hall. “I just... this is weird. Especially Cas.”

Sam nodded quickly, trying to offer the man a somewhat reassuring smile. “It’s to be expected dude, really. We’ll work it out though, that’s what we do.”

The smile Alt-Dean gave him in return showed that even in this other world, he had complete faith in Sam. “Right.”

Patting his burned suit pockets as they left the library, Alt-Dean frowned. “Damn, I lost my Dad’s ring. Probably fell out of my pocket when I landed...”

Seeing that Alt-Dean was about to turn back, Sam used a hand on his elbow to guide him toward the bathroom. “I’ll take a look for you while you grab a shower. I was actually wondering— can I ask about me? There’s a Sam in your world too?”

Alt-Dean nodded. “Sure.”

Sam smiled, gesturing as he encouraged the doppelganger to say more.

“On the surface, most stuff looks the same so far. We live here,” Alt-Dean gestured around at the bunker as they strolled slowly down the hall. “Me and you—well, my you—and Cas. Sam threatens to move out periodically but he’d never leave, really.” Alt-Dean chuckled, but it was a little sad.

“So... Dean. If you don’t mind me asking...” Sam said slowly, looking sidelong at him. “...In your world. Cas is somewhat different? You and Cas?”

Eyes that were not-quite his brother’s considered him for a moment, and Sam thought they might be concealing laughter.

“Yes, Sam. We’re together. You don’t need to beat around the bush to ask if I’m having sex with the angel, we’ve been together for five years. It’s kinda the normal thing to be doing.”

To his credit, Sam at least had the good graces to blush a little. “Right. Sorry, I just wondered. The way you reacted to our Cas was strange and I just— I was curious I guess. How could you tell he was different from your Cas?”

“That dumb coat, for one thing. It’s been a couple of years since he wore that,” Alt-Dean chuckled humorlessly. “But also, I couldn’t see the softness my Cas has. My Cas is...” he paused, sighing wistfully. “He’s funny. He's sweet, and romantic, and fun. He really learned how to be human once he was loved. I take it your Dean...” He trailed off suggestively.

“They are definitely not together. Best friends, occasionally try to kill each other, no hard feelings anymore.” Sam confirmed immediately.

The tiled walls of the bunker passed slowly as they walked, dawdling along to engage in conversation rather than hurrying to the shower block.

“I’ve wondered a few times,” Sam continued more cautiously, “whether they were into each other. But I think maybe they’ve got to the point where it’s too late for either of them to change how they are now. Missed opportunities.”

Alt-Dean nodded. “It was really hard for me to let go of everything I thought I knew about myself. Try not to judge him for never doing anything about it. If he’s anything like I was...he’s probably scared of changing what works, more than anything.” Alt-Dean sounded like he felt at least some solidarity with his possibly-closeted self from this world. “It’s a lot to work through.”

“Oh, no judgment from me. Sometimes I just want them to get their heads out of their asses,” Sam commented lightly, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Honestly, I’d be relieved if they’d just—”

They rounded the corner to the corridor where the bunks began, and his train of thought was interrupted as Alt-Dean gasped aloud, and sprinted forward.

Sprawled at the end of the corridor was another Cas. A long streak of blood along the tile indicated that he had dragged himself out of one of the bedrooms and made it halfway up the corridor before passing out.

Sam could just about tell that he was all dressed up just like Alt-Dean, his suit navy with a grey shirt and vest, the reverse of Alt-Dean’s. Sam vaguely registered that the two had matching ties. However, this new arrival was in much worse shape than the sooty and slightly singed Alt-Dean.

Running over to help, Sam gagged at the smell of burning flesh. He didn’t know how Alt-Dean was dealing with the scent, but he seemed to be oblivious to it, frantically yelling the angel’s name over and over, strings of Enochian words also falling from his not-brothers lips. The man was crying, looking instantly broken—this other Dean was definitely softer and quicker to show emotion than the one Sam knew in his universe.

Sam couldn’t blame him for his reaction though. He had no doubt that if he wasn’t an angel, Alt-Cas would never have survived whatever had happened to him.

Sickened, Sam noted he could see charred stumps where three of the vessel’s fingers should be. One whole side of Alt-Cas’s face seemed to be burned black and collapsed in, and blood seemed to be oozing out of almost every facet of his skin with no specific origin. Unconscious, Alt-Cas was alive, but that was really all that could be said in his favor.

The Dean and Cas that belonged in this universe raced into the corridor from the direction of the war room, attracted by the screams and commotion.

On the floor, Alt-Dean barely registered their arrival. Pulling Alt-Cas up into his arms, called out to him desolately, “ _Ol hoath... Ol olprit, oashmi ol ollog..."_

Sam realized with some admiration that Alt-Dean must have put a lot of time into learning his partner’s language, as the words flowed very naturally from his tongue. Focusing back on the matter at hand, Sam immediately moved to put some space between Alt-Dean and his angel, pulling firmly but gently at Alt-Dean’s shoulders to get him to move back so that they could all help.

Sam gestured to Dean to help him get the new arrival to a bed, both of them frowning at the horrific injuries and the angel's worrying lack of responsiveness.

Cas dropped down into a crouch and placed a hand on the sobbing Alt-Dean’s shoulder, looking puzzled and genuinely confused to hear any version of Dean speaking the language of angels. He pulled at Alt-Dean, trying to take him from the prone, but seemingly alive, angel on the floor.

 _“Goho Enochian ladnah?_ ” Cas asked, tactfully trying to distract him so that Sam and Dean could lift the horrifically injured angel and get him moved to the infirmary.

 _“Noib!”_ Alt-Dean snapped back at him. _“Nostoah as nidali conisba, Castiel... Olani nanaeel nostoah niis ol vvrbs hoath.”_

Cas blinked, understanding sharply dawning across his face. Visibly surprised, he dropped Alt-Dean’s shoulder.

“I— I’m sorry,” he stammered, reverting to English. Dropping his eyes, Cas stepped away and turned to help his Dean and Sam with the severely injured version of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enochian Translations
> 
> Ol hoath - My love  
> Ol Oprit, oashmi ol ollog - My light, come back to me  
> Goho Enochian ladnah - You speak Enochian now?  
> Noib - Yes  
> Nostoah as nidali conisba - It was no work  
> Olani nanaeel nostoah niis ol vvrbs hoath. - I did it for my beautiful lover [sic]


	3. Chapter 3

It was many hours later by the time Sam and Dean lowered themselves heavily into a pair of the antique chairs back at the map table.

“Man, what a day,” Dean raised his brows at Sam, picking up a bottle of beer that had sat on the table, forgotten, since their attempt at dinner. It was flat and probably horrid, but Dean seemed to care very little.

“Yeah,” Sam responded quietly, rubbing his hand across his face. “Sorry about the food, man.”

Dean poked at one of the cold, abandoned cheeseburgers that were still plated up on the table in front of them. “S’alright. I can make more tomorrow.”

A muffled clatter came from somewhere down the hall, where Cas was working on Alt-Cas’s injuries. To Dean and Sam’s surprise, Cas hadn’t seemed able to just zap him with grace and heal him.

Sam had initially assumed that Alt-Cas was simply too injured, but the angel from this world had instead given him a long, confusing explanation about them occupying separate instances in space but “blocking up each other's instances in time”. Sam rubbed his forehead; that one hurt to think about.

Cas seemed to think it was a bad thing “for the world” to have these doppelgangers here, and whatever it was that made that a problem, also made them less susceptible to Cas’s powers. He’d had to heal him carefully and slowly, working for hours.

At one point Cas had scrawled sigils on the other vessel’s back to pull his wings over to the visible plane, explaining that they required more work than he could do ethereally.

Dean knew that Cas’s wings were damaged and broken even in their world, but seeing the burning stubs left on Alt-Cas’s back was heart-wrenching, despite the odd disconnect he felt with these people.

The hardest part had been persuading Alt-Dean to step back and let Cas work. Cas had eventually been forced to knock him out and order the Winchesters to take him to one of the many empty bedrooms the bunker provided.

Alt-Dean’s reaction to Cas was starting to concern Dean, though he couldn’t put his finger on what was so bothersome. Their relationship was obviously different from his and Cas’s. He couldn’t help but wonder how different, and what had caused it to change.

Dean gave a hefty exhale, puffing away the curious thoughts to turn his attention to the problem at hand.

“So, what do you think, Sammy? Do we have any chance of getting those two back where they should be?”

Sam ran a hand up to his brow, tugging idly at his longish hair as he responded, “Well, we know the magic exists. I just don’t know much about it, honestly. It’s some intense, archangel level stuff, Dean. The other-you made it sound like that witch just appeared and cast it on the fly, though.”

Looking thoughtful, Sam shrugged. “How do we even know if the rules of their world are the same as ours? The way I understand it, something must be different or the world wouldn’t have a reason to exist.”

“So their world has to be different? Like, it’s made up differently?” Dean questioned, brow furrowed.

“No, not really. The way I understand it, some decision was made that changed the course of events. There were options and when the choice was made, it caused a...fracture, I guess? Something important enough to split into a whole new timeline. But,” Sam looked at Dean again, shrugging helplessly, “it could have been any choice made from the beginning of time up to, well, yesterday.”

“Great,” Dean responded dryly. Reaching for his neck to rub at it, he added thoughtfully, “Well, we know it was something that happened before The Darkness came. I didn’t get my neck slit, he did. Wonder why that happened.”

Sam cleared his throat “Well, maybe she didn’t have as much hold over Dean there as she did here with you. I’ve been thinking about that scar and I get the feeling she couldn’t manipulate that version of you as easily...” Seeing his brother start to look defensive, he added hastily, “Just a feeling, Dean. A theory.”

“A theory, huh?”

Sam gave a long exhale and turned to look fully at Dean. He looked to be bracing himself, as if he was about to deliver bad news.

“That Dean,” Sam jerked his head back towards the bunks, “and you, have some fundamental differences that I’ve picked up on already. Starting with the fact that that Dean is in a relationship with Cas.”

Sam paused for a second as if waiting on his mute brother’s reaction. After a second he grinned mischievously before adding,

“Like.... lovey-dovey, together for always, bumpin’ uglies kind of relationship. I think maybe his love for him meant that she didn’t have so much control.”

Watching curiously for his older brother’s reaction, Sam wasn’t at all surprised when a frowning Dean snatched another one of the flat, stale bottles of beer from the table. He tilted his head, chugging the whole thing down with wide eyes before he dropped his almost disbelieving gaze back to his little brother.

“Wait... Did you just actually say ‘ _bumpin’ uglies_ ’ about an Angel of the Lord, Sam?”

For a moment they looked at each other; Dean processing the news and Sam watching to see how he’d take it.

Slowly, they both started to laugh, seeking humor in the face of the awkward situation.

“I guess he flies both sides of the fence,” Dean choked out.

“Well, clearly you like to drop to your knees at his altar,” Sam raised an eyebrow slyly and their laughter erupted again.

“He doesn’t mind where he hangs his halo.”

“Oh, an equal opportunity flyer, you think? Or does he keep it strictly non-biblical?”

“I dunno, we’ve only got one reference for where he sticks his harp,” Dean snorted.

“Guess he’s wingin’ his way to—”

Sam was cut off suddenly by a low growl from behind them.

“I don’t have a harp.”

Cas stood in the doorway, holding a bucket of bloodied rags to go to the furnace room for disposal. It wasn’t clear how much he had heard, but he looked from Sam to Dean and back again, his brow furrowed with anger.

“You’re making fun of me?”

Sam's eyes widened in horror. “Shit, man, no—we were just breaking the tension, we didn’t really mean anything—“

Cas turned on his heel and left, not even letting Sam finish his sentence.

“Fuck.” Dean exhaled loudly, slamming his fist down on the table. Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like this isn’t weird enough. Now Cas thinks we’re assholes.”

“Yeah,” Sam responded quietly, his voice full of regret.

He looked like he wanted to rise and follow Castiel straight away to explain their poor jokes, but Dean restrained him with a hand on his forearm and pointed to the library.

“Leave him to calm down and do his thing. We’ve got bedtime reading to do.”

 

***

 

Dean didn’t sleep at all, slogging slowly through lore book after lore book that Sam had piled in front of him. It was nearing eight in the morning when he pushed his current tome away, groaning lightly as he stood up. Moving around the table toward the kitchen to go put some coffee on, he stopped to look at his brother.

Sam had fallen asleep face down about an hour before, snoring softly. Since then, he had amassed quite the collection of tiny paper scraps and miscellaneous junk in his hair. Dean took the opportunity to steal one of his brother’s post-its, rolling it into a tiny ball and adding it to his creation.

Once the coffee had dripped, he poured two piping hot cups. Taking both of them back to the war room with him, just in case Sam was awake, he headed back to their research station.

Sam was definitely still asleep. Dean paused in the doorway, stifling laughter as he saw his other-self silently hovering next to the table, very carefully adding what appeared to be several pencils to the nest in his little brother’s hair. He looked up and they grinned at each other; the happiest expression Dean had seen Alt-Dean make since he’d hugged Cas the day before.

Offering the spare coffee to him, Dean greeted his doppelganger, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Sam. “Morning, Dean. Sorry about knocking you out. You get a bit unreasonable when you’re emotional.”

Taking the coffee, Alt-Dean smirked. “Yes, we do.”

“Touche,” Dean grinned, lowering himself back into his seat.

“Your angel just woke me up to let me know my Cas is going to be okay. He let me see him for a minute. He’s still asleep but... better.”

Gesturing down at himself, Alt-Dean continued, “I borrowed some of your clothes, I hope that’s okay. Your Cas mojoed my burns away but my suit was really beyond saving,” he chuckled quietly.

Dean nodded, pushing a chair out with his foot for the doppelganger to take. “Shame, we look pretty dashing dressed up like that.” He winked and laughed, amused at the odd sensation of winking at himself. “Were you somewhere special before you got sent here? Or undercover?”

Slowly taking a sip of his coffee, Alt-Dean eyed him levelly from across the top of the cup. “You really want to talk about this?”

“Not at all, really... so, of course, let’s go.” Dean gestured for him to continue.

“I was on a date. With Cas, my Cas,” Alt-Dean began. “I’d spent several months arranging a whole night for us—it was our anniversary. The witch blasted into the restaurant, killed a lot of people. Zapped us here. Or zapped Cas, really. I just tagged along.” His face seemed to be a war between anger and disappointment.

Dean winced. “Ouch. That, uh...” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “that sucks man, I’m sorry.”

Ignoring him, Alt-Dean continued, “We first ran into her while investigating a bunch of suspicious deaths in Oregon last week. She had enchanted some wannabe-witches into working for her, kidnapping people on her behalf and making sacrifices to some obscure God. It was a gross, cult-like kinda thing.”

“She sounds delightful.”

“Yeah. She was crazy powerful—and immune to witch-killing bullets. She didn’t even flinch when I shot her,” Alt-Dean explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.”

“Good to know it’s not normal here either. We wiped out her minions and Cas managed to get her into some spelled handcuffs. We took her back to the dungeon because Sam wanted to try to work out who or what she really was, and where her power was coming from.” Alt-Dean’s voice grew more troubled. “I don’t know how she escaped, or what she did to Sam.”

Slurping at his cooling coffee, Dean sighed and leaned back into his reading chair. “Man, it doesn’t sound like you get many more breaks than we do.”

Alt-Dean smiled. “We do have some bad luck on occasion. But life is good, for the most part. Happy.”

They were silent for a few minutes, not uncomfortable but weighted with a multitude of things that hadn’t been said.

“So, Sam and I were up all night looking for spells to transfer people between worlds. I’m afraid we haven’t had much luck,” Dean confessed apologetically to his other self.

“Actually, I have an idea about that,” Alt-Dean sat up, seeming pleased to have the focus of the conversation moved back to the problem at hand. “What about the witch?”

The original Dean tilted his head, following along. “Your world is the same as ours, essentially...”

“So if we want to find out how the spell works....”

“....we should find our version of the person who cast it.”

The Deans grinned at each other across the table.

“Let’s wake Sammy and get going on that then,” Dean said.

They looked at each other for a long second, before their eyes slid over to Sam. With almost perfect synchronization, they both beat out the intro chords to Asia’s _Heat of the Moment_ on the table top and yelled, “Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Sam flew up, bits of paper and pencils flying everywhere, looking like he was about to have a heart attack.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas shifted his weight forward onto the balls of his feet, leaning over the prone mirror-image angel in front of him so that he could reach his other shoulder. Gathering his very essence to a single point of focus, he guided his whispering grace through his fingertips, slowly soothing the burned skin of the vessel, inch-by-inch.

Cas wobbled slightly, exhaustion pulling at his mind.

He opened his eyes and sighed, withdrawing his touch and sequestering his grace back down into his core. It felt like a pleasantly cool breeze drifting through his body.

Usually, he’d have been able to ease the vessel’s horrific wounds with a couple of fingers to its temple. But something was so _off_ about this body, and the Alt-Dean too, so wrong in this place—their very presence made the matter around them hum and wave in a way that made Cas’s remaining feathers twitch. They just weren’t meant to be here.

Reaching to rub at his eyes, he slumped down into the seat beside one of the bunkers spare beds with frustration. Annoyed with himself, he realized that he wasn’t just tired from using his grace, he was also distracted.

Having Dean from the other world arrive here had been bad enough. But now… now this familiar, yet so different, angel lay unconscious on the bed in front of him.

Dean, his Dean, had always had a bright soul. It shone in Cas’s view even through his human form, dazzlingly beautiful. But this new Dean, Alt-Dean, was different. His soul _glowed_ , bursting distractingly inside his form whenever Cas looked at him. It was an ethereal golden light that had been nurtured by experiences that hadn’t been shared by the Dean that he knew. Looking at him was saddening, maddening and revealing.

But the angel? Alternate _him_? Looking at him was a much worse experience. Cas could see his grace, a throbbing white-blue record of every moment of this other Seraph’s existence. Oh, how it throbbed, hummed, and sang. He felt dull, drab and inexperienced next to this other version of himself. He read in his not-quite-own grace the story of everything he had wanted for years but had never had.

Cas sighed bitterly. He could read a love story so profound in Alt-Dean’s soul that it had changed the very essence of who this other angel had become. Seeing the result in Alt-Cas was uncomfortable, as it highlighted everything about himself he was unsure of.

At least in their world, the doppelgangers were happy. He’d never begrudge any version of Dean that. It seemed that Alt-Dean deserved it, and had very likely earned it through a life no easier than his own Righteous Man had endured. He was happy with his angel. Their love was clear.

His Dean… Well. He had walked in on his Dean with his brother the night before, making terrible angelic-based puns about his sexual preference. Or what humans would have believed was a preference. For him, it was more like total indifference to the arbitrary labels humans give each other.

None the less, the difference between them and their doppelgangers was achingly sharp.

Feeling annoyed again, Cas stood back up and gathered his grace, returning to pumping it almost angrily into the destroyed vessel that lay before him.

 

***

 

It was another two hours before Alt-Cas started to come around, groggily fluttering open his eyes to immediately squint with relief, and then confusion, at the almost-same world he had arrived in. Not wanting to endure much discussion with himself, Cas finally allowed Alt-Dean see his boyfriend again.

Realizing he had no excuse to avoid this world’s Dean and Sam any longer, Cas slid into the war room quietly, hoping to avoid a big conversation.

He had no such luck, spotted and jumped on by Sam the second he entered.

“Cas! Buddy, we are _so_ , so sorry—last night, that wasn’t meant to sound like it did. We had no intention to come across like we were making fun of you, Cas. Everything was a shock and we were being silly just to break the tension,” Sam seemed set on babbling out a lengthy apology before Cas could stop him, “We were talking about the _other_ Cas but if any of that applies to you in any way then that is totally _fine,_ and we—”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snapped, looking somewhat annoyed at his brother.

He rose from his chair, stepping up to Cas with a quick, simple hug. “Sorry, Cas. We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

That was it.

Cas felt an intense wave of relief.

He nodded into Dean’s shoulder before they pulled apart. “It’s okay, Dean. I probably misunderstood. Sounds like something I’d do.”

He sounded, Dean noted, a little bitter. But, with other things to focus on, Dean sat back down at the table in front of Sam’s laptop and let it go.

“Right, well, we have a plan at least, if you’re interested.”

It only took a couple of minutes of explanation. They didn’t know enough about what they were dealing with to plot anything elaborate; what they needed was information.

“Dean, that is a _terrible_ plan,” Cas announced grumpily.

The two Winchesters at the table looked away from the laptop and up at him.

“You can’t just walk up to this witch and ask her to help us, Dean,” Cas sighed, his eyes turning briefly to Heaven for help handling these eternally reckless humans.

“Even if she sent the other you here,” Cas continued, “this version of her has never even met you. For all we know, she isn’t even a witch here.  Even if you and Sam did find her online, that doesn’t mean she has the same power… “ Cas paused. “...and even if she does, remember what she did to us! Them—I mean to them. The other us,” Cas flustered briefly, his words tumbling out with clear distaste.

“Castiel is correct, but what other choice do we have?”

It was a strange experience, Castiel realized, to hear his own voice coming from behind him.

Entering the room leaning heavily on his boyfriend’s shoulder, the Cas from the other dimension looked a million times better than the day before. The skin on his face, having been the greatest priority to heal, now looked smooth and unblemished. His right hand was still bound thickly in bandages, however. Three fingers had been burned clear away, and regrowing bones was beyond Cas’s abilities for the moment, his grace depleted merely getting the other angel back to consciousness.

Dean quickly pulled out two chairs for the slowly approaching couple. “Castiel, you’re up! At least mostly. Sorry that you had a rough arrival, man.”

Dean reached out to greet the new angel with a quick slap on the shoulder.

For his part, Alt-Cas just stared at him, slowly taking in the man that was an exact carbon copy of his partner.

“It’ll take him a few more hours to gather his strength before we can head out,” Alt-Dean offered, breaking the awkward silence. He slipped into the chair next to Alt-Cas, steadying him on the way down. “Do you have any more coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll go make some,” Sam said a little too eagerly.

Cas watched as Sam dashed off to the kitchen, momentarily wishing that their doppelganger adventure had provided them with two Sams instead of the irritating, pitying angel that Cas saw when he looked at his other self.

Sam returned after a few minutes with a tray of mugs. He walked into a thick, uncomfortable silence.

The two angels were staring daggers at each other.

The Cas Sam knew, the one in the trench coat and tie rather than Dean’s faded sweats and a long-sleeved green t-shirt, scowled openly at Alt-Cas. The second angel looked back without blinking, blue eyes to blue, but his look carried a note of what might have been pity.

No one was saying anything, sat awkwardly as the two Castiels dominated the room with matching squints.

Sam cleared his throat, very quietly whispering, “Compared to getting between those two, being killed by that witch is already starting to look like the good option.”

Both Deans looked back to him with slightly tortured, frozen grins. “Yup,” they whispered in unison.

They handed out the mugs, then the two Deans and Sam set about ignoring their two obstinate angels, and hashed out their plan.

 

***

 

All in all, Dean was having a pretty lousy couple of days.

The week had begun so well! He mused on the irony of it. They had finished up their case. There had been cowboy hats, there had been burgers. There had been Cas, not dead in the slightest.

Now, suddenly Dean had to consider a version of the world where he was head over heels in love with Cas, and much more shockingly, Cas loved him back. As if that wasn’t enough of a mindfuck for the week, now his brother was trying to persuade him to book a flight.

“Dean, you’re being ridiculous. It’s a twenty-eight-hour drive from here to the Oregon coast. We can fly there in three hours,” Sam stated calmly.

“I like driving,” Dean argued.

“There are five of us, Dean. Five. All squashed in a relatively small car for the three days it would take to make a trip that far.” Sam worked his sensible logic angle, though he knew logic didn’t affect Dean much when it came to airplanes.

“How is that my fault? Last time I checked I was a hunter. I needed a trunk you could stash a body in, not a damn soccer-mom van!”

“Dean. We are going to fly, you’re outvoted by the two Castiels and me. Though if it’s any comfort, we did have to have this same argument with your other self.”

Cas appeared through the doorway, carrying a duffle bag that looked suspiciously like it belonged to Dean. “All packed. Did you overrule his objections yet, Sam?”

“Pretty much.”

“Come on, Dean.” Cas’s voice was at least sympathetic. “The five of us have to squeeze into the car at least until Kansas City airport—and if you don’t hurry out to the garage, the other Dean will probably be in the driver’s seat.”

“Why am I being punished?” Dean wailed dramatically, throwing his arms in the air as he begrudgingly headed out to the bunker’s large underground garage, where he kept Baby whenever they were going to be home more than a few hours.

The two Deans fought for a few minutes over who got to drive, but Alt-Dean relented as this wasn’t even _technically_ his car.

“If I can’t drive, I’m shotgun,” Alt-Dean eventually snapped. “I don’t _do_ sitting in the back.”

So, poor Sam curled his long body up in the back seat. He was trapped with a silent, brooding angel on each side of him. He could occasionally feel the Castiels’ glares at each other boring through his head.

“If we don’t get you guys home within a few days, we are buying a minivan,” Sam hissed desperately into the front seat.

When they pulled up to the airport after the most uncomfortable car-ride of his life, Sam scrambled out straight over the Cas from his world. He slid his long legs over the angel's lap and slithered out of the door before Dean had even fully engaged the parking brake.

Cas’s mouth flapped in objection, but no sound came out.

“Alright,” Sam pulled both of the Deans aside as they walked into the airport terminal. “Your angels are officially your own responsibility at this point. Work out what the hell is going on with them. I am getting my own damn seat. Away from you.”

“He’s not _my_ an—” Dean began, before Sam cut him off pissily.

“I don’t care, Dean. Not even a little. _Your angel_.”

With that, Sam moved his impressive bitch-face into line for tickets to Portland.

The Deans looked at each other, muttering.

“Such a drama queen,” Dean grumbled.

“In every universe,” Alt-Dean agreed.

 

***

 

Dean hustled Cas into the airplane ahead of him, so that he could grab an aisle seat. It didn’t matter where he sat, particularly, as it was all awful. But he preferred not to have a stranger sharing his elbow space, so he’d take the aisle while Cas took the middle seat. Luckily, the window space seemed empty.

“Why did we get separate seats?” Cas enquired idly, shucking off his tan trench coat and folding it to go in the bin overhead. “There’s hardly anybody on the plane.”

Dean rolled his eyes, immediately seating himself and tightening his lap belt as far as it could go, despite the fact that people were still being loaded onto the aircraft.

“Sam demanded the other Dean and I separated our angels and worked out what was going on with you two,” he responded honestly, sounding less pissed about Sam’s declaration than he would have in any other situation. The constant fear of dropping forty-thousand feet could do that to a person.

Cas noticed that Dean’s voice was a little higher than usual and smirked to himself in amusement. Squeezing past Dean, he dropped into the seat immediately to his left.

“Your angels...” Cas repeated slowly, a look of confusion on his face as he thought back over Dean’s words.

“You, know, with those two being...” Dean waved his hand in the vague direction of a few rows behind them. “... whatever it is that they are.”

Cas made a quiet “oh” as he dug around for the other end of his lap belt between their seats.

“Partners? Lovers? Boyfriends?” Cas offered helpfully, ramming his arm between the seat cushions almost halfway to his elbow to grip at the dropped metal.

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean sounded uncomfortable. Cas looked over to him and realized that Dean was sitting with his eyes closed, his head rammed back against the headrest.

“Does it bother you? Them?” Cas looked down at his hands, folding them onto his lap as soon as he was done retrieving and closing his seatbelt.

“Not really,” Dean admitted, his body perfectly immobile.

Cas heard him gasp slightly as the plane lurched forward to begin gliding up the runway. He didn’t speak, sensing that Dean wasn’t quite done, more likely interrupted by the airplane’s movement.

“Is that it? Is it because he’s gay or bi or whatever that’s making you so weird with the other Cas?” Dean choked out after a moment. He briefly opened one eye, closing it again quickly as if he’d merely wanted to check that Cas was still next to him.

“Sexual orientation is a human construct Dean,” Cas replied almost wearily. “So no, I don’t care where he…” he turned his head a fraction to the right so he could eyeball Dean, quirking his lips to the side before he repeated the phrase that he had heard him use, “... _sticks his harp_.”

Cas was pleased to hear Dean laugh, even if it was a slightly strangled sound.

Sighing after a moment, Cas continued, “It’s not about that. That Cas is very different from me and I suppose I envy parts of it. Sam told me that in their world I am much better at, well, a lot of things. Communicating. Understanding. Human things. I suppose...”

Cas looked over quickly to check that Dean still had his eyes closed. He was relieved that Dean couldn’t see the heat of shame that had flushed his cheeks before he’d cleared it from the vessel.

“I suppose I feel somewhat inferior to him. It makes me irrationally annoyed. Plus, viewed from the outside… it turns out I’m kind of grumpy.”

An exaggerated expression of surprise gave Dean’s face the most life it had shown since they’d entered the airport.

“That’s actually not that irrational—” Dean’s sentence came to an abrupt halt as the airplane’s wheels lifted.  

Feeling a tug at his arm, Cas looked down to see that Dean was gripping on to him almost frantically, his fingers spread out in a panicked claw. His knuckles whitened as his nails dug into the fabric of Cas's suit jacket.

Noting Dean’s clenched jaw, Cas turned his arm and placed Dean’s hand in his, squeezing it tightly for comfort. He patted at Dean’s frantically bouncing knee, unable to totally hide his amused smile.

“We’ll be fine, Dean. It’s just an airplane.”

They sat in silence as the plane climbed. Only when they leveled out did Dean’s breathing begin to slow back to near-normal.

As if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted at all, Dean’s lip quirked at the edge, though his eyes remained closed.

“And Cas…. you said you didn’t have a harp.”

Cas shook his head, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and allowing them to lapse in comfortable silence while Dean squeezed his hand.

He considered putting Dean to sleep several times throughout the flight. Dean kept freaking out at every slight bump, but he knew how the man felt about what he called “ _being mojoed unnecessarily_ ” so he did not. He settled for holding his hand tight and occasionally patting his shoulder or knee, offering what he hoped were comforting, useful air-crash statistics to put Dean at ease.

Eventually, Dean yelled at him that he wasn't helping, and told him to shut up. They sat in silence again then, which was only broken by an occasional low-level mumble about death-traps and falling.

About an hour into the flight, Cas excused himself to go find Sam, wanting to ask him for a book to pass the time. He had to walk past the alternate universe couple in their seats and couldn’t help but watch them as he approached.

Alt-Dean was curled slightly onto Alt-Cas. The angel had his bandaged hand resting on the arm of his seat between them, the other holding a plastic cup of whiskey. As the other Dean leaned onto his shoulder, he brought the cup up to Alt-Dean’s lips and let him take a few big gulps. Dropping a kiss onto his boyfriend’s head as Alt-Dean leaned back down, the angel smiled into his sandy hair while they spoke quietly. Alt-Dean even laughed a little; the fear was still in his eyes, but it seemed lessened by his angel’s presence.

Cas felt a slight twitch in his chest. He didn’t realize he was staring until it was too late, caught out by the doppelganger of himself looking up and spotting him. It was there again in Alt-Cas’s mirror-image eyes, that look of pity, of irritation.

Dropping his head, Cas immediately turned to head back to his seat, book forgotten.

Returning to his chair, Cas decided he could at least take an idea from his improved-self. He waved down a helpful flight attendant to request a few mini-bottles of whiskey. Opening them and adding them to the plastic cup he was provided, he offered the drink to Dean.

Dean still had his eyes closed, and didn’t respond to the cup of whiskey, unseeing. Shaking his head, Cas pressed the cup to Dean’s bottom lip.

“Whiskey.” Cas tilted the cup. “Here, Dean.”

Dean’s hand shot up to grab the cup, one eye-opening to watch Cas as he chugged it down.

“Thanks, Cas,” he whispered, a thin smile reaching his blanched face. “Good idea. Sorry I’m such a wuss about planes. I’m an idiot,” Dean grumbled lightly, returning to his frozen position with his eyes closed, leaning into the back of the chair.

Taking Dean’s hand again without preamble, feeling him latch onto his fingers like a lifeline, Cas chuckled slightly.

“You are an idiot,” he confirmed. “But it’s okay.”

 _Because you’re my favorite idiot,_ he didn’t add.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe you  _ actually _ rented a minivan, Sam,” Dean bitched with a scowl. “I refuse to drive this monstrosity. Look at it! It has window-shades! Automatic child locks! It’s  _ beige. _ ”

“Fine. I’ll drive it, Dean.” Sam snatched the key from his brother. Cas and the alternate-world visitors watched them but didn’t interject. 

“What, with your feet up under your chin? Have you see the size of the foot-well in this model?” Dean threw one arm out wide, indicating the car.

Alt-Cas stepped forward hurriedly, as if he could tell that Dean was about to go off on a real rant. He quickly swiped the keys from Sam’s hand and opened the car door.

“How about I just drive this thing, and you all get in and be quiet,” he grumbled. “I still have a giant headache from hitting the bunker floor. Anyway, I can drive better than Sam, even with only one hand.”

“Hey!” Sam retorted defensively. He stopped short when he saw the angel’s toothy grin. 

Shaking his head, Sam pressed the button to open one of the sliding doors and folded himself into the back with a laugh. 

“Have you seen this Dean? This version of Cas has jokes.” 

“Yup,” Dean replied dryly. “It’s like looking into the world’s weirdest funhouse mirror.”

Dean craned his neck around the headrest to question his alternate self. “Does he still do that thing in your world, where he pouts like a baby when he gets pissed?”

Alt-Cas, settling into the front seat, turned to glare at him sulkily.

“Oh, yup, there it is,” Dean howled with laughter.

The alternate version of himself cackled along with him, as did Sam. Even Alt-Cas wiped the grumpy pout from his face and joined in, more easily able to laugh at himself in their world, it seemed.

The original Cas sat right at the back of the minivan, silent as he tried to position his elbow around the complimentary child’s car seat that was strapped in next to him. He didn’t laugh, turning his gaze out of the window for their journey to the coast.

 

***

 

“Time for a gas stop,” Alt-Cas announced as he pulled the minivan off the highway. “We’ll be there in about forty-five minutes, so just grab snacks, bathroom breaks and stretch your legs,” he instructed the rest of the vehicle.

They all piled out onto the forecourt of the busy Gas-N-Sip.

Alt-Cas stood waiting next to the gas pump, with his palm up, looking questioningly at Dean. It took Dean a moment to register that Alt-Cas didn’t even have a wallet, here. 

“Sorry, bud. Here,” he pulled a credit card out of his own wallet, passing it over. “Put it on this. That’s one’s new, should have a decent limit. Keep it while you’re here,” he offered.

Leaving Alt-Cas to fuel the minivan, Dean walked up to the door of the main building. Cas was outside, leaning against a concrete bollard not far from the entrance.

“You coming in, Cas?” Dean asked, tilting his head to indicate the Gas--Sip. 

Cas shook his head. “You go ahead. There’s no reason for me to go, and gas stations aren’t my favorite places.” 

Dean nodded and headed inside to grab a soda and a snack.

He was debating which kind of beef jerky to get when Sam came up behind him with an armload of fancy water and bruised gas-station fruit.

“So, is Cas doing okay?” Sam asked quietly, lurking at Dean’s side as he waited for him to make a connection.

“Meaning what?” Dean asked, putting back the teriyaki kind in exchange for woodsmoked. 

“Him and the other Cas, what’s the deal? Did you guys talk on the plane?” Sam queried, getting impatient.

“Yeah, some. It’s no big deal, I don’t think. He’s just not enjoying the view from the outside, I don’t think. He’s a grumpy shit, you know that,” Dean offered nonchalantly, moving to get into line.

Sam kept pace with him but raised his eyebrow disbelievingly. “Really, huh? So it’s nothing to do with you? Or...the other you?”

Dean turned his head to the side, giving Sam a blank look. “Huh?”

“Just… you know,” Sam shrugged, putting his healthy-ish spoils down onto the counter. “I think maybe Cas gets kinda lonely, sometimes, y’know?”

“Okay…” Dean blinked as they paid, pausing to smile at the clerk and thank him before they wandered back toward the door. “And what exactly does that have to do with me, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes toward the sky. “You know what, nevermind. Forget I mentioned it,” he grumbled, taking advantage of his long legs to stride ahead of Dean out of the store.

Sam nodded briefly to Cas, who still sat watching the minivan thoughtfully from his perch on the bollard, and headed back to the vehicle’s side door.

Dean came to a stop beside Cas, frowning at Sam’s back as he folded himself down to climb into the van. After a thoughtful second, he turned to Cas and give him a crooked smile.

“You wanna grab a coffee or anything buddy, before we go?” 

Cas shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Everything okay?” Dean asked pointedly, lowering himself down to perch on the next bollard over, angling his feet toward Cas. “You’re grumpy as hell.”

Of all the expressions that Dean had thought Cas might pick up through his years on Earth, pouting was never one of them. 

“I’m fine,” Cas repeated, before turning to look at Dean.

The two stared at each other until Cas’s shoulders slumped a little and he exhaled.

“I’m tense and uncomfortable. I don’t like having them here. He makes me feel like I—like somehow I’m doing everything wrong. What do you want me to say?” 

Standing again, Dean squeezed briefly at Cas’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to say anything, Cas. Honesty goes a long way, that’s all. We’ll get them home and everything will go back to normal, okay? Just us again.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “Just us sounds good,” he admitted, sighing dramatically. “Just make sure I don’t punch that pitying look off of his face please, Dean,” he confessed. “I really, really want to.”

Dean laughed. “That’s  _ you _ , man.”

“I know,” Cas grumbled. “I’m infuriating.”

Dean grinned and took a step toward the minivan, before turning back to Cas and jerking his head. “Come on. Faster we get this done, faster they go home.”

 

*******

 

“According to the social media posts we found, Morgan Hallow, our possible witch, works in that building,” Sam pointed through the side window of the minivan as they parked in the lot outside a towering office building. 

Shifting his weight in the back, Cas peered out of the window. “Assuming average office working schedule,” he said, “she should be finishing in just under an hour. Did she work in the same place in your world?” He directed his question up to the front of the van, to his other self.

“Of course not,” Alt-Cas seemed irritated by the query, his lip curling in derision. “She was a crazy, powerful witch with a cult of minions who’d do anything for her; she didn’t work  _ anywhere. _ ”

Cas clenched his jaw but didn’t add anything.

“So,” Alt-Dean interjected very carefully, looking between the two angels from his shotgun seat, “there’s definitely a difference here. She may not even  _ be _ a witch. Or at least not one that already wants to kill us?” he ventured cautiously.

“Her bloodline is long; she’s a witch,” Alt-Cas offered grumpily.

“It’s a long history from what research Sam managed to do. She’s a witch,” Cas admitted.

The two Castiels mumbled sulkily in somewhat reluctant agreement with each other.

_ Like children,  _ Sam mouthed to Dean, sat in the opposite middle seat. 

Around forty-five minutes of awkward silence later, a short woman with collarbone-length blonde hair stepped out of the building in a pair of smart pants, heels, and an emerald green shirt. 

Alt-Cas seemed to recognize her, looking at his boyfriend next to him very suddenly.

“That’s her,” Alt-Dean confirmed immediately. “Follow her, Cas.”

“On it,” he said, starting the engine as she entered a blue Volkswagen Beetle and peeled out of the lot.

He followed her for about six miles, trying to stay relatively out of sight. Once she left the highway and headed out into the country though, it was futile to try to be subtle—they were the only cars on the road, so hiding in traffic was impossible.

“Alright, everyone,” Alt-Cas growled. “Hold on to your butts.” 

The Sam and Dean from this world looked at each other and stifled laughter, while Cas just blinked. 

“What purpose does that serve?” he questioned before the minivan lurched and suddenly sped up, eating away at the distance between the two vehicles.

Minivans, it turned out, were not meant for high-speed car chases.

Somehow though, Alt-Cas managed to bring the car right up behind the woman’s vehicle, close enough that they saw her head turn. She most likely intended to yell at the crazy people following her car—but her face flashed with recognition and she accelerated suddenly, looking furious. 

Her smaller car had a definite weight advantage when it came to speed, but Alt-Cas seemed to be a very confident driver. He pushed the minivan to the limit, the sudden bounce of acceleration causing Sam’s phone to shoot out of his pocket. Muttering and unclipping his seat belt for a moment, Sam scrambled under his brother’s seat, not wanting a potential projectile flying around the car. 

Ahead, the small road lurched suddenly to the right. 

Alt-Dean raised his arm in his shotgun seat, pointing at a green field of farm animals over a short fence. He and Alt-Cas looked at each other, briefly sharing a moment of silent communication like only couples seem to manage. After a beat, Alt-Cas nodded and spun the steering wheel sharply right with his good hand.

The vehicle flew off the road, bouncing horrifically down the embankment and tearing up the field as they veered through it. Taking the fence with them, the minivan made some awful noises but kept going. Sheep scattered noisily to each side and Sam, having only just sat back from retrieving his phone, flew out of his seat and crashed into Dean.

By the time Sam had gotten his hair out of his face and climbed back into his seat, Alt-Cas crashed through the second fence on the other side of the field. This time, Cas reached an arm forward from the back to pin Sam into his seat, keeping him from hitting his head on the window.

“Seat belt!” the Castiels barked in unison.

Sam scrambled to close it. The van screeched and whirred as they made it up the other embankment, pulling out onto the road just in time to see the blue Volkswagen hurtling towards them, the plan to cut her off successful.

She didn’t stop.

_ “All decks brace for impact! _ ” Alt-Cas yelled as he struggled to turn. 

He lurched to the side, throwing his vessel in front of Alt-Dean, just as the original Cas released his seatbelt to dive in front of the other two Winchesters, shielding their rib-cages and pinning them back to their seats like a trench-coated airbag. 

There was a deafening crunch of metal and a lot of yelling as the minivan rolled off the side of the road.


	6. Chapter 6

“Was that a Star Trek quote!?”

Dean’s voice rose in amazement from the wreckage, breaking the eerie peace that had fallen once the screeching of metal settled around them.

They had landed in the ditch next to the road on the passenger side of the car, shaking them about and entirely obstructing their exit from that side.

“Everybody all good?” Sam called out, craning his neck around to check on everyone, made more difficult by the fact he was hanging in the air sideways by his hastily closed seat belt, his hair covering his face.

“Yeah. Angel airbag to the rescue,” Alt-Dean chuckled slightly, placing an affectionate hand on Alt-Cas’s shoulder as they adjusted in their seats, smiling at one another.

Managing to lever his door open and climb out of the side (which was now the top) of the car, Alt-Cas reached in to help Alt-Dean out of the vehicle.

Once he had lifted Alt-Dean clear and satisfied himself that they were all okay and that the car wasn’t about to burst into flames, Alt-Cas seemed to relax. He finally called back to Dean to answer his original pop-culture question.

“Yes, it was a Star Trek quote. From the 1979 Star Trek movie. I’d have thought you’d have known, Dean.” The angel grinned slightly.

Dean paused to help Cas manually heave open the crushed sliding door on the side of the car.

“I do, but how do _you_ know? Metatron?” Dean guessed when they were done.

“No,” Alt-Dean laughed at his confused self. “We’ve watched it, dumbass. Actually, that was one of the first franchises I initiated him into years back… right, Cas?”

“Yes, followed up swiftly by Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and an entire catalog of bad 80’s horror movies,” Alt-Cas added, his memory angelic-perfect as they all began clambering up the embankment. “Don’t you watch movies with your Cas? Teach him about humans, about life on Earth?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Dean answered, before adding quietly to himself, “apparently nowhere near enough, though.”

Ahead of him, Cas turned to offer him a hand over the barrier and up onto the road. “Are you sure you're alright, Dean?” he questioned quietly, looking him up and down with obvious concern, checking for injury.

“Yeah,” Dean took Cas’s offered hand and jumped the short metal divider. He gave the angel an awkward smile. “Thanks, man. For diving in front of me back there. In front of us— Sam and me.”

Cas shrugged dismissively. “Of course.”

Although they were all glad of their light conversation to keep everyone calm, the issue of the witch remained once they’d all safely exited the minivan.

The smoking remains of the blue Volkswagen that had barreled into them sat in the middle of the road, the front of the car completely destroyed. Sam jogged up to the vehicle and opened the door.

The woman trapped in the front slid to the side, almost collapsing on Sam. Her face bloodied, she looked up at him with a resigned scowl.

“Alright,” she murmured. “You got me, I surrender. I did wonder if I’d ever see him again…” Her eyes turned to rest angrily on the closest Castiel.

“You know Cas?” Sam asked quickly, lifting the injured woman’s arm around his wide shoulder as he pulled her clear from the wreckage. “None of us are here to hurt you, Morgan.”

“Cas? That’s what you call him? Well, he already did hurt me,” she spat in Cas’s direction again, “so excuse me if I’m not inclined to believe you.”

Morgan’s eyes unfocused in confusion as another Castiel stepped out from behind the one she glared at.

“How… how hard did I hit my head?” she asked faintly, her hand going up to her bloodied hairline.

Cas stepped forward, pushing up the sleeves of his trench coat just a little as he moved towards the woman.

“Do I know you?” He squinted slightly as he reached for her head, touching two fingers to her temple and watching the bruising cut along her forehead heal.

She jerked violently at his touch, her distrust and fear of him clear. “You... What are you?”

“An angel,” Sam answered simply on Cas’s behalf, a slightly sympathetic smile on his features. “And you, you’re a witch.”

Morgan seemed to be listening to Sam, but she ignored his statement, her attention still turned to Cas as he stood next to her. The Deans and Alt-Cas stayed back, watching the exchange next to the wreck on the otherwise empty road.

She sighed. “I almost made it home, too.” She gestured to a large house at the end of a dirt driveway to their left.

Looking around at them all, Morgan heaved her shoulders in exasperation.

“Fine. Come on. Let’s go to the house and you lot can torture me or kill me or whatever you’re going to do,” she finished. Her tone was laced with sarcasm and she seemed oddly unconcerned.

“Uh… none of the above, hopefully,” Sam said uncertainly as Morgan smoothed out her shirt and began to walk towards the building.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me call my car insurance company first,” she snapped, disbelieving.

Across the petite lady’s head, Sam raised an eyebrow at Cas, mouthing, “ _What the fuck_?”

Cas just looked even more confused.

 

***

 

Brief introductions begrudgingly made, a tin of home-baked cookies was pushed to the middle of the large kitchen table they all sat around; a Dean and a Cas on each side, Sam and the witch at opposite ends.

The Deans both eyed the cookies suspiciously. It seemed an odd gesture, they had no idea of the woman's intentions. So, just in case, they looked forlornly at them without partaking.

“Why are there two of you?” Morgan looked suspiciously between the Castiels and the Deans. “This is very confusing.”

“ _You_ think it’s confusing?” Sam laughed. “It’s been a hell of a time for me. It’s a long story though... Alternate worlds, they need to get home.”

“So not all that long,” the small woman replied dryly. The setting sun dipped a little further, the kitchen darkening. Morgan raised her hand, flicking her wrist lazily, and the lights turned on.

“Uh,” Sam looked at her cautiously, “you said you weren’t a witch.”

“No, I didn’t,” Morgan snapped. “I just ignored you.”

Moving her eyes back to Cas, her gaze narrowed. “You really don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.

“Should I?” he asked carefully, casting a sideways look at the alternate universe version of himself for a second.

“Well, you shouldn’t, I suppose. Jimmy should.” She tilted her head and waited while Cas quickly zipped back through his vessel’s memories, like browsing a library.

“Oh… Meredith.” Cas’s response came out quietly, full of guilt. “So you thought...” he trailed off, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

Shooting a concerned look at Cas, Dean straightened up and involved himself. “Okay, an explanation for the rest of us please?”

The woman fixed her gaze flatly on Alt-Cas now, as if she wanted to make sure to glare in turn at them both.

“I am a witch, yes. Morgan Hallow isn’t my birth name. I was born and lived most of my life as Meredith Hallow. I picked up the nickname when I moved out here to Oregon— call it supernatural witness protection, if you will.” She picked up a cookie, nibbling lightly at it before pointing back at Cas.

“And that _creature_ ,” she curled her lip with distaste, “is wearing my brother-in-law.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“I actually thought he was a demon up until today,” Morgan said as she tapped her lip thoughtfully. “So, assuming that he is _not_ a demon who has come here to abuse my powers or kill me for compromising his identity or any other ridiculous thing, why the hell are you all here?”

“Wait,” Alt-Dean leaned forward, “you’re a witch. A real, bloodlined witch. But the Novak’s weren’t?”

“No,” the woman’s eye-roll was withering, “of course they weren’t. Jimmy was my brother-in _-law_ , Winchester,” she emphasized. “Technically _co_ -brother-in-law,” Morgan waved a hand dismissively. “My sister married Jimmy’s older brother—he passed about twenty years ago though, when Jimmy was in college. But Jimmy and I were close.”

Sensing that the story wasn’t finished, the group waited.

“When Jimmy disappeared, a lot of people missed him. Parents, brothers, friends. His wife Amelia, his daughter Claire. It was about three years later when a friend of mine sent me a pretty horrific news photograph.” Morgan’s voice was cold now. “It was from a security tape. A man who looked just like my Jimmy, standing in a political campaign office. He’d massacred everyone. Not a life left.”

Both of the Castiels looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“You know, I almost went crazy hunting the truth, dipping into magic even my family had no place in. It was a long time before I found you. When I did, you were human. Working in a gas station and pretending to be someone else. Luckily for you—for us both—I couldn’t bring myself to hurt a human version of you. So, I quietly left town and came here.”

“You worked in a gas station?” It was Alt-Cas’s voice of surprise that came out first, questioning the other angel.

“Yes,” Cas responded gruffly. “After I left the bunker because of Gadreel. Didn’t you?”

“No, we…” Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean gave each other a brief confused look before seeming to decide that the discussion was best left for another time.

“Morgan,” Alt-Dean turned to her, “we’re all sorry about Jimmy Novak—and please believe me when I say, no one is sorrier than Cas. But that isn’t really the reason we’re here.”

She raised an eyebrow but nodded for them to continue.

“In the alternate world that myself and this Cas come from, there is also an alternate version of _you_. She has killed a lot of people. We tried to stop her, and in retaliation, she sent us here.”

Morgan blinked. “So… my timeline is different there.” She seemed surprised, but recovering quickly. “I sent you here? I had that much power?”

“Yes,” answered Alt-Cas. “But Dean and I need to return to our own world.”

“Yes. Yes, you do…” The witch suddenly stood, staring intently at Alt-Cas, leaning up to his face. She tutted and flicked at the air around his head with a frown. “I can see now. When you know what to look for it’s quite obvious. You really aren’t meant to be here at all.”

Morgan moved from her chair, looking around at the group. Her sigh was bitter, but she folded her arms and walked angrily from the kitchen, further into the house. “Come with me.”

Chairs scraped as they all rose to follow her. Dean decided to take his chances and snagged a cookie on the way out.

“You can’t stay here. The longer you stay in this world, the more problems you will cause. Two bodies aren’t meant to take up the time-space of one,” the witch continued.

“That’s what I said,” Cas muttered dully, side-eyeing Sam as they all followed the woman out into the hall. “I tried to explain the same thing to Sam.”

Morgan huffed. “I wouldn’t bother. Inter-plane space and time dynamics are a tricky subject for a human to conceive of.”

Stepping into a large room that in most houses would have served as a den or living room, the boys found themselves in a large library. Floor to ceiling bookcases heaved with leather-bound spell books and journals. A large table sat to one side, covered in jars and bowls and piles of things no one cared to examine too closely.

Alt-Dean stopped just inside the entrance, his eyes widening as he took in the sheer volume of occult texts and objects the room held. His eyes trailed over everything, one part awe and one part horror, as he began to notice a distinct theme to some of the items.

Wood carvings of horrific looking beasts were pushed into corners; creatures with tentacles and empty faces. In fact, to Alt-Dean’s discomfort, there seemed to be a slightly tentacley theme to a lot of the leather-bound book covers and chests of spell ingredients that sat around. They curled around clay pots and were engraved into the covers of tomes, painted on to wood and depicted in art on the walls. It was unnerving.

The rest of the room was dedicated to a tiled floor, the occasional glob of wax or chalk on the ground indicating that it was used for ritual purposes. Everything seemed dusty, however, as if it didn’t get much use these days.

“Woah...” Sam stopped, staring around at all the shelves. “It’s like the bunker in here. Look at all these books!”

“There’s only one book that matters,” Morgan informed them as she stepped up to the table, pulling a thick, red leather tome off of a book stand. “This is my family’s spell book, passed down for generations. I’m thinking that the spell used to send you here was one of ours.”

The Deans and Castiels all paused to look at each other hopefully.

Morgan fixed them all with a glare. “And I will give you the spell, as long as I never have to see _any_ of you again. You keep your business with that alternate witch and you leave me in peace.”

There were nods all around.

Spreading the book on the table, she motioned for the angels to come closer. “What do you remember about the spell?”

Alt-Cas stepped forward. “It was in a language even I didn’t recognize, I’m afraid.”

“We know all languages,” this world’s Cas scoffed. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Castiel,” Alt-Cas’s voice growled angrily. “Why would I lie?”

“Well, then you must be mistaken or have been hit in the head…”

The angels squared up to each other, the doppelganger yelling now. “Look, _Castiel_ , just because this version of you is a pathetic—”

There was a loud cracking noise like thunder and both of the Castiels froze instinctually. Morgan turned to them, her eyes blazing.

“Don’t come into my house with your petty squabbles. Show me your memory of the spell, angel, before I lose patience with all of you. I don’t _have_ to help, you know,” she threatened angrily, five and a half feet of snapping electricity.

Alt-Dean’s face paled in a panic. He had seen what the other version of Morgan could do. His gaze moved over to Dean, and they exchanged a long look. Dean’s hand moved almost imperceptibly to his gun, a promise to use it if they must. Satisfied, they both looked back to the witch.

Sam stepped up closer to Morgan and the angels, his hands raised like he was trying to calm wild animals.

“Cas,” he nodded to the Alt-Cas, “please show Morgan if you can. Then maybe we can all just chill out a bit, huh?”

After another moment of fierce eye-confrontation, Alt-Cas turned to the witch and raised a hand to her head. “Hopefully you have enough power to see what I’m showing you. If not, I guess we could try a spell to transfer the memory.”

“Nope, got it,” Morgan interrupted smugly. She pointed at a chair nearby. “Now sit, in case I need you again. You two—” she indicated the Deans, “—start to sweep the floor and draw me a circle. There are spells in this book that I can’t even read without a ritual.”

“You,” Morgan’s bossy, commanding tone turned on Cas, “get out of my way.”

Her wrist snapped and a silver spark like a firefly darted across the room and hit the angel between the eyes.

“ _Brgdo, Seraph! Olani zch ol brgdo!”_ An Enochian-sounding command flew from her lips as Cas slumped to the floor, Sam diving the two feet between them to catch him.

“Take him to the kitchen, Winchester,” she commented lazily through everyone’s shock. “He’ll wake up in about half an hour. Now quiet.”

Sam staggered briefly under the weight of the angel, but after quickly exchanging a cautious look with his brother, he obeyed and carried him out of the room.

Cas dreamed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dean’s hands cupped at Cas’s face, his thumbs trailing along his jaw. A deep, concerned voice faded in and out, pulling at Cas’s consciousness. “Castiel? Ol hoath….bagle nanaeel ol brgdo?”_

_“Brgdo?” Cas sat up sluggishly, aware of light all around him but not much else. Sleeping? Was that what Dean said?_

_“Noib.” Dean nodded in the affirmative._

_“Of course… I must be sleeping. You would know my language in dreams,” Cas slowly realized._

_He was laying on his back on something solid, though everything around them was swirling, misty and unformed. Cas pushed himself up on his elbows, taking in the undecided dreamscape he seemed to be sat in. This was a place formed by his mind, he could tell, but he hadn’t decided exactly what he needed here, yet. So it waited for his intent, whirling like smoke, waiting._

_Knowing that this was just a fantasy now, Cas allowed himself to smile lovingly at Dean, gazing up at the handsome human crouched beside him._

_“Olani oi amiran oe mad irpoilel….” his pleasant hallucination of Dean clarified. “I can speak whatever language you want, do whatever you want. That’s how dreams work, beloved.”_

_In his dream, Cas’s heartbeat surged. He didn’t usually sleep, let alone dream, so this felt like some fantastical reward that he didn’t quite deserve._

_“If I’m dreaming, then we can do anything... what shall we do while I’m here, Dean?” he questioned._

_A smirk pulled across both of their faces, as they already knew the answer._

 

***

 

As there was nowhere really that comfortable to lay Cas in the kitchen, Sam pushed the cookies and cups aside to lower him down to the wooden table they’d all sat around, spreading him out on his side. Looking out into the hall, Sam grabbed a decorative pillow from a pile on a wooden chair, taking it back to the kitchen to tuck under his friend’s head.

“He’d better wake up in thirty minutes, witch _,”_ Sam hissed under his breath. “Or I’ll make you wake him up.”

Sam pulled his gun from his waistband as he sat down at the table and fastidiously checked it, counting the dozen witch-killing bullets in the chamber as a comfort. He knew the best idea was to stay here and watch over the vulnerable angel—they didn’t know what had been done to him, not really. That didn’t change that fact that Sam really wanted to keep his eye on the witch.

It was such an odd sight to see Cas with his eyes closed, so peaceful. Usually he was intense, even when still, and rarely slept. The only times he’d even used a bed were when he was human, or weakened significantly.

A soft sigh came from Cas, catching Sam’s attention.

Leaning down, Sam brought his ear closer to Cas’s face, tilting his head close to his lips.

“Cas? Can you hear me, buddy?” Sam tried, searching hopefully for any kind of reaction.

Cas didn’t seem to hear. He was caught in a deep, deep slumber and hadn’t so much as twitched while Sam was bringing him to the kitchen. Sam was about to straighten up and return to his seat when he caught a mumble from Cas’s lips. He leaned closer again and heard the angel almost imperceptibly breathe out his brother’s name.

“Dean…”

Looking Cas over, Sam’s eyes widened as they landed on the angel’s _very_ visible signs of arousal.

Cas moaned softly, his fingers scraping across the tabletop as he gripped at something, or someone, in his dream.

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Sam muttered, covering his ears and doubling over on his chair, trapped somewhere between amused and horrified.

Any other circumstance in the world, Sam would have left Cas alone for his private moment. But since he’d just been whammied by a strange witch, Sam realized with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to stay.

“No wonder he never seemed interested in any of those women that throw themselves at him,” Sam muttered sourly.

 

***

 

Dean’s green eyes darkened as his gaze fixed firmly on the witch, unamused. “What did you do to him? To Cas?”

He was aware that Alt-Dean had a hand on his shoulder, cautioning him. “Great, so even me has a better handle on my temper than me,” he grumbled to himself.

Alt-Dean gave him a dramatic eye roll, before nodding toward Morgan.

Morgan fixed Dean with a steady stare that seemed like she was looking deep into him, and made him feel incredibly exposed.

“So worried…” she said, thoughtfully. “Cute. Don’t be concerned about your dear Cas, Winchester. The two angels together are a little too volatile for this right now, I need to concentrate,” Morgan explained.

She waved a hand dismissively at the kitchen, busying herself at the table of goodness-knows-what while she carried on speaking.

“He’s in a forced sleep by Enochian command. He’ll wake up shortly, I can assure you. I have even given him the ability to enjoy whatever dreams his heart holds while he’s there.”

Morgan paused, somewhat begrudgingly giving Dean a small, calming smile before she continued.

“This little blast-from-the-past, not to mention the intrusion into my life, is most certainly unwelcome—but don’t make the assumption that I am cruel. I don’t have to help you, yet I am,” she pointed out before turning back to her book.

Dean exchanged a hesitant look with Alt-Dean. Seeming to come to the agreement that they had little option, the two of them began to sweep the floor clear, ready for the circle.

Interpreting a flick of Morgan’s wrist, Alt-Cas rose from his seat to move a heavy bookstand to the middle of the floor, then stepped back to wait as the two Deans completed a white chalk circle on the tiles.  Morgan stepped inside with the ancient spell book in her hands right before they closed it.

Spreading her book out on the stand Alt-Cas had placed, Morgan turned to a page near the back of the spellbook that appeared to be blank. She studied it intently, her lips moving though no words came out.

After a couple of minutes, she turned to Alt-Cas. “The good news,” she said, “is that I think I understand how you were sent here, based on what I saw through the memory you showed me.”

“And the bad news?” Alt-Cas questioned, pursing his lips.

“In previous generations, my family had some… let’s call them ‘exotic’ ties. I believe my other-self didn’t find you at that gas-station as a human like I did.  She likely became desperate enough to go back to those roots, and became lost.”

“Exotic ties?” the Dean’s questioned in unison with identically quirked eyebrows.

“They worked on Earth to bring forth an ancient Outer God named Ngyr-Korath, The Mad God of the Void. The spell you heard, Castiel, wasn’t strictly an incantation; it was a call to the Outer Gods in an ancient language known as R'lyehian. It is from before your time, angel.”

Alt-Cas blinked.

“Wait, R'lyehian—” Dean interrupted, “—I recognize that!” He sounded quite proud. “That’s Lovecraft crap. We’ve come across this before. Lovecraft was an overreaching idiot who opened a portal to an alternate world to impress his friends. Last time, that portal led to Purgatory.”

Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas nodded, seeming to agree that things had happened similarly in their world.

Morgan nodded. “Good, then. The concept isn’t totally alien to you. Eldritch Gods reach into many worlds, not just Purgatory.”

“How much of the language do you know?” Alt-Cas questioned. “Can you translate her words?”

The witch fixed the angel with a flat stare. “I can. I have no wish to tangle with that mythos but I _will_ , in order to help you. In return,” her eyes narrowed, “swear to me that you won’t joy-ride my brother-in-law’s body into trouble again.”

Alt-Cas exhaled slowly, his discomfort clear. After a long moment, he reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Morgan’s bicep. “Morgan, I am so sorry that you experienced what you did. Jimmy as you knew him? He’s in heaven, now. He’s happy. But I can’t promise you that.”

Alt-Cas appeared regretful, but he met Morgan’s angry gaze calmly as he continued.

“It’s not a promise I can guarantee to keep, not when it’s unknown what will happen to me in this vessel. What I _can_ promise you is that I will use it for whatever seems right and true from the choices I have to make.”

Alt-Cas sounded genuinely sorrowful, squeezing gently at Morgan’s arm for a moment before he dropped his hand back to his side.

They looked at each other for a long time. It was Morgan that broke, nodding briefly and turning back to her book.

“The key to your arrival here is in the last part of the speech, I believe,” she began swiftly, flicking her eyes to include both of the Deans in her conversation with the angel.

“ _Ahmgr’luh agl ahagl yar ahazath ng gspill ahagl ymg’ gn’bthnknyth llll mg’lloig r’luhhor ot soth…”_ she recited calmly.

Looking around at them all, but seeing no understanding, she continued to explain. _“_ It roughly translates to ‘Seek the place where the time changes and spill there your heart for the Mad God of the Void'. So the spell I believe was used...”

Morgan flicked through a couple more blank pages in the ancient-looking spellbook. Finding the one she seemed to seek, she trailed her fingers across the parchment. Silvery writing illuminated under her touch as she waved the boys over.

“This one. A spell to cast heart-energy into the void. Souls and grace are meant to be unique energies in a universe. If separated from a body, they can be attracted to their own energy signature,” she began explaining, looking around to gauge their comprehension before she continued.

“Because you exist here also, when my other-self tried to throw you both into the void, instead of being suspended in the abyss, you attached to your other selves like magnets and got pulled here.”

Alt-Dean slowly nodded. “So how do we get back without ending up in the lap of some tentacled Cthulhu-type?”

“The key is in the energy released when your timelines split,” Morgan mused, pointing out a part of the spell, that appeared to be latin, to Alt-Cas as he looked over her shoulder.

Alt-Cas nodded in agreement. “Yes, it seems so. When our timelines split there would have been a burst of powerful cosmic energy emitted. If we find that point in space in _this_ world, we may be able to gather that energy and use it to create a portal to wherever the energy split off to—our world.”

“Seek the place where time changes,” Dean quoted, seeming impressed. “But what about the other part—‘spill there your heart for the Mad God of the Void ?’”

“Its blood magic,” Morgan affirmed quietly. “Once you find the location of the energy disruption, you’ll have to cut into the hearts of your alternate selves to activate the portal. That will destroy the physical entities on this side—which shouldn’t be here.”

Morgan turned to look back at Alt-Cas as he stood behind her. “All you can do then is hope that the energy carries your soul and grace back where they came from, through the void and home. Once you’ve been released from these forms, no second chances. It’s a case of end up home, or spend an eternity in the void.”

“No pressure then,” Alt-Cas whispered sarcastically.


	8. Chapter 8

_Cas raised a hand to Dean’s shoulder, wrapping his fingers around the place where he had once lifted the mortal through the thick, hot air of hell and raised him back to Earth._

_“If this is a dream, Dean, then you already know what I truly want most…” he whispered longingly._

_“I do, Cas. I do.” The hallucination of Dean leaned close, pressing his lips to Cas’s without hesitation; leaving no doubt that this was a dream in every sense. Dean smiled against his skin, trailing kisses up to his ear._

_His whispered words felt like a soft balm to Cas’s long-aching heart._

_“You want to be mine, and me be yours in return…” a soft smile curled at Dean’s lips._

_“You want me to reassure you that you have purpose; an angel who can bridge the gap between our worlds, learn to live, and to love,” the hallucination continued, “You want me to tell you that this mark on my soul is freely given and that I feel this connection too, the one that pulls at you every time we stand close.”_

_After only a second’s pause, Dean spoke again, with determination. “You want me to take your heart as it has been on offer all these years, and freely give you mine in return.”_

_“Yes,” Cas closed his eyes, “that's all true.”_

_The hallucination’s hand coming to his cheek opened Cas's eyes again._

_Dean’s expression was open, showing only truth and affection as he spoke. Bringing their foreheads together, his voice lowered slightly then, a different desire rising to his lips._

_“You have all that, here—and more. You want to experience the rush of human physical pleasures with me, don't you, Cas? You want me. You dream of flying with me, holding my form in your wings and making love in the stars.”_

_“Yes, I want you, Dean,” Cas murmured back helplessly. He felt his body and mind giving in to this beautiful dream. “But my wings are destroyed. Flying with you, or even alone, is out of my reach.”_

_Dean reached up to stroke Cas’s cheeks, their bodies pressing together and waking up the angel’s vessel like a jolt of electricity. “It’s a dream, Ol hoath, a dream…”_

_Cas gasped as his wings, perfectly formed and shining, snapped into being and enveloped them both like silk._

_“Dean.” With a low growl and the feeling of his heart filling with relief and fire, he kissed deeply into the man’s mouth, nipping his lip lightly between his teeth. “In that case, my love, you are wearing too many clothes.”_

_With the mere thought, their clothes were gone._

_Feeling Dean hot and erect against his singing flesh, Cas shuddered and moaned._

 

***

 

Sam stared resolutely at the clock in the kitchen, watching the second-hand skip by jerkily. He tried not to pay attention to Cas beyond making sure that his twitching, sweating body didn’t roll itself off the table. Eyes averted politely, Sam supported him with a cautiously placed hand on his knee. However, the breathy sounds and gasps his friend made left no doubt what he was dreaming of.

Sam was intruding on Cas’s most private thoughts. He felt like a traitor. A very uncomfortable traitor.

Considering that he never wanted to hear someone moaning his brother’s name like that ever again _,_ his face inadvertently screwed up into a salty-looking pout.

The experience certainly gave Sam a few things to think about. Through Cas’s currently embarrassingly clear arousal, Sam was able to see his relationship with his brother in a whole different light.

“I thought maybe the two of them had a bit of a crush going once, but…” Sam sighed, talking resolutely to a spot halfway up the wall, trying to use his own voice to drown out the noises. He couldn’t help but note the tenderness of the angel’s gasps and moans, even trying to ignore them. A tear shimmered from under Cas’s eyelids. “Boy, was I underestimating that on his side,” he muttered on, slightly amused.

“How long?” Sam asked Cas, despite knowing he wouldn’t respond. He kept thinking back to all the times Dean and Cas had torn each other apart, but always come back together again. “Did you always want more?”

Sam knew it wasn’t his place to dwell on it, but given the circumstances, he couldn’t really help it. His reverie was cut into by voices from further down the corridor, but he couldn’t quite make them out. He was relieved that there at least seemed to be no shouting occurring.

Settling back into the kitchen chair to wait out Cas’s nap, he considered how to get through the inevitable awkward conversation once the angel awoke.

 

***

 

“Okay, Morgan, so we need this… _energy_ from the point of the time-split to open a portal?” Dean folded his arms across his chest. “So how to do we get it? Are we talking time travel? How do we even know where or when to go?”

Morgan had been pouring over her family spell book with its oddly blank pages for some time, and Dean was growing impatient to get out of the room and check on Cas. He fought internally with himself not to just stick a witch-killing bullet into a woman who, up until now, had essentially been quite reasonable and helpful.

“Not exactly,” she didn’t look up. A few more minutes of silence and page-turning followed.

Dean almost twitched with unease. Alt-Dean reached for his crossed forearm, looking at him pointedly. “Be patient, Dean,” he murmured calmly.

“How are you so chill about this?” Dean frowned. “You got some kind of zen trick in your world, along with the angel kisses and bullet-proof witches?”

Alt-Dean’s smile was friendly, if a little pitying.

“I forgot how high-strung I used to be.” His eyes flicked over to Alt-Cas, standing behind the witch pouring over the pages. “It’s a useful skill sometimes to be able to focus on only what you actually need to. You can already do it, but you’ve got a lot of rage that gets in the way. Over the years, Cas helped me chill out a bit.”

Looking Dean up and down, Alt-Dean winked before he dared to add, “I’m sure yours could do the same for you.”

Dean stiffened, his tongue darting out nervously to moisten his bottom lip. He would have responded, but the witch spared him from the conversation.

“No time travel,” she announced firmly, closing the book. She looked up to Alt-Cas and he nodded in agreement.

Her next question was directed to the Deans. “Have you heard of scrying, the act of using an object to see another place in space or time?”

They both nodded.

“Right. So, I’m going to enchant a specialized scrying stone to be attuned to the same level of cosmic energy that you’ll be looking for. I’ll show this Castiel how to use the stone to view your memories; you’ll be able to see different versions of each memory, I expect—differences between the worlds. Once you find the memory that is the same for all of you but then hits the change point, the stone should detect it and show you where the energy was expelled.”

Morgan paused, looking around to check everyone was keeping up.

“All you will need to do is think back to events that the two of you shared in this world and try out a few memories to see what caused things to become… different. It might take you a while to pin down the memory, but the stone can be used as many times as necessary.”

Dean and the doppelganger couple all nodded along as she continued.

“The energy may have dissipated a little over time if it was something many years past, but if you travel to the location where the rift happened, it should react to the presence of your alternate selves. It should be simple enough to command the portal to open then.”

Walking towards the long table, Morgan opened an ornate storage trunk that was tucked beneath it and began to root around, pulling out a large slab of polished stone about the size of a laptop. It was circular, flat and gleaming, the surface dark in color like hematite or onyx.

“This should do,” she nodded. “Why don’t you clear up the circle for me, Winchesters? Then you can go and check on your companion while I teach this alternate angel the spells required.”

 

***

 

_Six wings, the color of smoke, were firm in their strength but soft like silk as they trickled over Dean’s exposed skin. The two smaller pairs of Cas’s stunning wings clung to Dean, holding him against the angel’s body as the larger, visually dominating pair of wings—at least thrice the length of Cas’s arms—beat steadily to hold them aloft._

_Cas’s fingers opened up Dean slowly. A cascade of kisses against the skin of his neck and chest kept Dean humming and gasping through the burn._

_“Cas,” he breathed against the angel’s skin, rutting down against his touch. “Please….”_

_Reveling in this dream where he could have everything, Cas didn’t think twice about filling him. He leaned Dean back with his lower wings, hands on his hips to lever into his body, pushing into him hungrily. Neither of them paid any mind to the filthy, delighted sounds dropping from their lips._

_Cas would build Dean up, right to the edge, then withdraw before he let him reach it. He loosened his wings so that Dean would drop suddenly, and tumble through the air with a cry of equal parts frustration and laughter, trusting over and over that his lover would catch him every time._

_Resettled in his arms, the thrusting began again. He and Dean climbed together over and over through white, weightless clouds until Cas could stand it no more, gasping Dean’s name in adoration as he spilled into him._

 

 

***

 

Cas twitched violently on the table, letting out a shuddering whine.

“Son of a bitch, please tell me that’s not…” Sam muttered desperately, unsure whether to look away or hide. “Yup...yup, it was. For crying out loud Cas, I hope you realize how lucky you are it was just me here.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam shook his head in mortification.

“At least you should be awake soon… and boy, do you owe me the next time I need a damn wingman,” he hissed at the sleeping angel.

Looking around, Sam found a folded tablecloth on the corner of the kitchen counter, waiting to be put away, he assumed. Shaking it out, he fanned it over the sleeping angel like a blanket. It hid the rapidly darkening wet patch that had caught the front of Cas’s dress pants and the bottom of his white shirt, gluing an inch or two of transparent fabric to his stomach with sticky fluid.

“There,” he said to Cas as he covered him up, patting his shoulder idly. “At least now no-one will see; just between you and me buddy.”

A few minutes later, almost exactly as Sam observed the clock tick to thirty minutes, Cas’s eyes fluttered open. Sam had rarely been so relieved to have someone wake.

“Cas?” Sam dashed out of his seat to the angel’s head, reaching out to help him sit up.

“I’m okay Sam,” he rumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “What happened?”

“The witch put you to sleep with some kind of Enochian command,” he explained. “I think you and your other-self were irritating her. You…” Sam cleared his throat, unsure what else to say. “You were dreaming.”

Cas squinted at him, then blinked slowly, as if remembering. “Yes… yes, I was, I suppose.”

Sam scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, ruffling his hair. He spotted a roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter near the sink and quickly grabbed them.

“Just… just between you and me Cas,” he ventured quietly, holding the angel’s sleepy gaze. “You were talking about Dean. I think he was in your dream, and, well... I think you might want these.” Red-cheeked, Sam handed the paper towels to the angel before he stepped out into the hallway.

He had no real intention to tease Cas, not precisely, but the look of abject horror and embarrassment that spread over Cas’s features would stay with Sam for a long, long time.

 

***

 

The two angels walked on ahead down the driveway, towards the minivan in the ditch. Dean and Alt-Dean caught Sam up on the witch’s help as they dawdled behind.

“So we can _see_ your memories in the scrying stone?” Sam questioned with an eager fascination. “Will we all see it? How does it do both versions?”

Alt-Dean shrugged. “I assume we’ll all see it. We both have to hold it at the same time, Cas does the chant, and then it should pretty much be like a TV screen from what she said. It should play through a memory as your Dean saw it, then when Cas continues the spell it should show my version. If at any point the timeline splits, we should see it.”

“See it how?” Sam seemed disappointed that he’d missed out on the interesting, magic-oriented conversation.

Dean shrugged, joining in. “No idea. She said it’d be obvious, but it’s not like she’s done it before. She claimed that she doesn’t dabble in her family's old Lovecraftian stuff, at least in this world.”

“So that’s why you didn’t kill her?” Sam quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” this world’s Dean admitted glumly. “I really wanted to pepper her full of witch-killer’s for knocking out Cas, but she did help us. Plus, I felt a little bad for her.”

“Because she got into a high-speed car-chase with her dead brother-in-law?”

“Pretty much. Our lives are crazy, by the way,” Dean trailed off, standing on the empty road.

Dean’s eyes widened as he witnessed a messy-haired dude in a trench coat, and his twin in old jeans and a band shirt, casually flip a four-thousand-pound minivan out of a ditch about thirty feet away.

“Damn, buddy,” Dean walked up behind his best friend, slapping Cas on the shoulder in appreciation. “Are all angels as strong as you? Or are you secretly pumping iron while we’re asleep?”

“All angels are stronger than humans, Dean. Though I didn’t get to be Commander by being one of the weaker ones,” Cas smiled, looking ever so slightly smug.

“Oh look Cas,” Alt-Dean called to his partner with a smirk. “You're a cocky shit in every universe.”

Cas watched as his alternate-self merely rolled his eyes, opening the door to see if the vehicle would still start. By some miracle, the minivan rumbled and shuddered to life. It was in terrible shape. One of the side doors was so dented that it wouldn’t open, the other crushed like a concertina. It wouldn’t even close all the way. The side windows were smashed and the roof was dented from rolling. But it moved, and that was all they needed.

“There’s no way we’re getting our deposit back,” Sam observed dryly. “We might as well drive it back to Kansas before we ditch it. Unless, of course, you want to fly back to the bunker, Dean?”

Both turned on him in venomous unison. “No!”

The Castiels both smirked as they all piled into their battered ride home.


	9. Chapter 9

 

It took about forty minutes for them to drive to a motel, including the quick squabble over whether they really needed to stop for gas-station tacos. The low price and lack of lunch argued that they did, the resulting gas and gurgling stomachs proved they didn’t.

The Oregon scenery they passed was beautiful, their destroyed transportation looking very out of place among the other vehicles on the road. None of the occupants in their minivan were paying attention to the scenery or the other cars, though.

On the row of back seats, Dean and Alt-Dean had their bodies turned in a perfect mirror of each other; one elbow up on the back of the seat, one leg folded onto the chair, the other leg stuck out into the aisle, anyone else’s space be damned. They were leaned in toward each other, their conversation low.

“So,” Alt-Dean asked, “you didn’t find the ring anywhere in the war room before we left? It was dad’s, I can’t replace it…”

Dean grimaced in sympathy and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything. You should check again with Sam though, he was the one who cleaned up all the crap we knocked out of place when you came tumbling in.”

Alt-Dean nodded. “Right. I’ll ask him sometime tonight, if I can get a second with him alone.”

“With or without the ring…” Dean flicked his eyes briefly to the front of the minivan, checking that Sam and the two angels were wrapped up in their own conversations. “Good luck, man.”

Alt-Dean nodded, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

“It’s… kinda strange,” Dean confessed, concentrating on a crease in his jeans.

“Strange?” His doppelganger questioned with a small tilt of his head.

“Seeing you and your Cas, together and happy. Thinking about stuff like that... when this Cas and I are just friends.”

“Just friends, huh?” Alt-Dean seemed skeptical.

“Yeah,” Dean responded somewhat defensively. “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

Alt-Dean stared at him flatly. “Right.”

“Really,” Dean sighed. It was pretty hard to lie to himself, it turned out. “Not that I haven’t ever… you know, kinda thought about it. When we’re close, there’s, uh, well... there’s always been a spark, I guess.” His cheeks burned at the confession. “But I’m not ever going to risk our friendship for that. He sees me just as a friend, always has, always will.”

“He doesn’t _look_ at you like a friend, Dean.” Alt-Dean kept his voice low, but it was matter-of-fact. “He doesn’t sacrifice himself over and over, like I know he has, for just a friend. My life isn’t your life, we know that, but man— open your eyes.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re wrong. The two aren’t the same. Your Cas loves you. This one is my best friend—but that’s all he wants, I guarantee you.”

They fell into silence, listening to the snatches of conversation from the front of the vehicle.

Sam sat shotgun, attempting to stretch out his legs without much success, and Cas sat behind the Alt-Cas, who drove them while Sam navigated.

“Castiel,” Alt-Cas asked over his shoulder, “are you feeling better after healing Dean and me? Would it be a lot to ask for you to take a look at these fingers when we get to the motel?”

He held up his still bandaged hand, reminding the other angel.

Cas nodded but didn’t get to respond before Sam butted in curiously.

“Can’t you, like, heal them yourself? I mean, our Cas heals himself all the time when he gets smacked around.”

“My powers don’t seem to work well here,” Alt-Cas confessed. “I still have superior strength, superior senses, superior intellect and poor but increasing wit… but my grace seems to be somewhat sluggish here. My guess is that it isn’t attuned to your world.”

“Yes,” Cas mused, “it’s probably out of line with the heavenly spheres here. It’d be interesting to take a look at, but I’m sure our time is better used on the scrying stone. It can only be a matter of time before your wrongness here starts having some lasting effects. You could wreck timelines, ruin the energy around you, bring down parts of the world. Who even knows, you could destroy the world itself.”

“I forgot how much of a joy I used to be,” Alt-Cas muttered sarcastically. “You should probably work on that, Cas.”

“Work on what? Not giving appropriate care to serious situations?” Cas intoned distastefully.

Sam lay back in his seat, rolling his eyes.

“On letting yourself have a little _fun_ , Cas. Relax a bit. The world won’t end if you loosen up. I’m proof of that,” Alt-Cas snapped. After a beat he slowly exhaled, looking back in the mirror to catch his twin’s eye. “Maybe we should just talk about the first memory that we should check.”

“Great idea!” Sam interjected with relief. “Morgan said it would be a shared memory between you and Dean, more than likely. Something important she guesses, but it could be _anything_ , unfortunately. We don’t always agree with the universe about what is important.”

“That is true,” Cas agreed from his middle-row seat, humming thoughtfully. Turning slightly to the side, he called to the back of the minivan, “Dean?”

“What, Cas?”

“What memory do you think would be prudent to check first to see where our timelines diverged? Something that we shared, a key event.”

Dean hummed quietly for a moment. “A key event. Well, I dunno, maybe the day we met? Back in Sioux Falls, in the barn? We should probably start from there. We can grab some food then meet up in our motel room and give it a go.”

 

***

 

Dean had a momentary crisis when he went to the motel office for their rooms. Was he supposed to get two twin rooms? The angels didn’t sleep, but that still left two Deans and one Sam. The couple Dean and Cas probably wanted a double room… or did they? The other Castiel was still an angel and still didn’t sleep.

Awkwardly, Dean rubbed his head as he considered that they still probably wanted a double for _other things_. But how did it then look to give one Cas a bed and expect the other to sit in a chair all night?

Shaking his head, he stepped inside and swiped R. Dibney’s credit card for two twin rooms and a double. Taking the room cards, he headed back across the dark parking lot to the trashed minivan, tossing the room cards through the window to his other self.

“Double for you guys, a couple of twins for us to split. We should probably park the car as close as we can to one of the rooms, since the door doesn’t shut all the way, unless one of the angels wants to sit in it all night.”

Neither of them looked impressed at the idea, so they moved the car to a spot directly outside one of the twin rooms.

Sam and Cas went to drop their bags into the rooms while the alternate couple and Dean walked across to a nearby diner, planning to pick up some food for them all.

Sam moved around from the back of the minivan, holding a couple of duffle bags. “So, I get a room to myself? Cas?” he looked over to his friend. “You want to share with Dean?”

For a moment, the angel looked flustered, before glaring slightly at Sam. “Are you making fun of me? Is this about earlier?”

“I was just asking about the room, Cas,” Sam answered quietly, mentally berating himself—he hadn’t particularly ever wanted to bring _that_ incident up again.

“Oh. Sorry,” Cas shook his head, reaching for one of the room cards from Sam’s hand. “You share with Dean, I’m very used to being alone, after all.”

Sam gave a long exhale, the air whistling audibly out from between his pursed lips. He held onto the room card, briefly playing tug of war with the angel over the piece of plastic. He pulled it back from him for a second, closing his arms.

“You aren’t _alone_ , Cas, jeez. What am I, a piece of furniture?”

“No Sam, you’re my friend,” Cas deflated slightly. He looked embarrassed and oddly tired.

“Okay, well as _you_ are the one that brought it up, we’re going to have a little friend-to-friend talk about this, Cas. Yes. I saw and heard things on that table earlier today that I will never be able to remove from my brain. But I didn’t say a word to anyone and tried to keep it covered up because I am your _friend._ ”

Cas dropped his gaze, looking suitably chastised. “I appreciate that, Sam. The last thing I want is to lose Dean’s friendship over something like that.”

“Oh, _Cas_ ,” Sam sighed. “You don’t really think that’s what would happen do you? Dean’s an ass sometimes but he’s not _that_ much of a jerk.”

As the angel shrugged, looking a little lost, Sam couldn’t help but grab him into a brief hug.

“For an angel, you can be pretty stupid,” he commented.

“I’m aware,” Cas answered sulkily into Sam’s plaid shoulder.

 

***

 

Crushing the foil wrapper of his hamburger into a ball, Alt-Dean took aim at the motel-room trash can with a contented sigh. With a crinkly bounce off the dingy wall, it made it in.

“Good to know that some things are just as good in any universe,” he licked his lips.

The two angels sat opposite each other on the edge of the twin bed mattresses, involved in some kind of silent stare-down that was taking up all of their attention.

Dean poked the last of his fries into his mouth, humming in agreement. Without bothering to swallow, he pouched them up in his cheek and spoke around them. “I’m tired, guys. Let’s get this mirror mojo tested out with that stone so I can kick you all out of here.”

Cringing obviously at his brother’s table-manners, Sam shook his head for a second before turning to elbow Cas out of his staring contest.

Cas’s attention snapped up to Sam immediately, jolting just a little. Somewhat begrudgingly, he got up and fetched the stone from the nightstand where they had propped it, striding over to the small table and set of chairs the motel provided.

“Both of the Deans, the other Cas and I will need to sit around the table. Sam, if you want to watch you’re probably better standing behind me,” he offered.

As the group shuffled towards the table, Cas reached out to catch the band-shirt covered shoulder of Alt-Cas. “You’ll need both hands for this. I should be strong enough to regenerate your fingers now.”

They eyed each other again for a moment, but this time the consensus was a small smile as Alt-Cas began to peel the bandage from his hand.

The skin underneath was a revoltingly raw-pink and black in equal measure. Flakes of flesh, carbonized by the witch’s flame, came off with the bandage. In place of his pinkie, ring and middle fingers, there was air; open bone joints visible down on the blacked stump of his hand. Alt-Cas wrinkled his nose slightly at it, as did Cas.

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized softly. “I should have offered before you brought it up. I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” his doppelganger dismissed quietly as he placed the ravaged hand palm up in Cas’s outstretched hand.

Covering the painful-looking wound with his other hand, Cas held the injury between his palms and reached inside himself, feeling the white cold-burn of his own grace rise and breeze through his body. It took a few moments; regrowing even small limbs was a taller order than simply mopping up some blood or bruising. The almost blue-white trails of grace shone between his hands.

Alt-Dean, who hovered with obvious concern next to his angel, quickly shielded his eyes.

Cas released Alt-Cas’s hand as the light faded.

Three fresh fingers came into view as if they’d always been there. Alt-Cas moved them around experimentally, smiling.

After quickly checking his boyfriend’s hand with a relieved smile, Alt-Dean grinned and threw his arms around Cas, squeezing hard into his trench coat.

“I’d missed those fingers, you know,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Jest aside, he relaxed into a grateful smile as he hugged Cas for a moment.

“I imagine so,” Cas answered calmly, patting Alt-Dean on his back as familiarly as he would with his own Dean.

“Thank you, Cas. Thank you.”

Alt-Dean reached up to grab Castiel’s cheeks with a wink, surging forward to kiss the angel firmly on the lips with a mocking grin before he let him go. “Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.”

Cas froze like a statue as he was kissed. Once he was released he slowly blinked, like someone regaining consciousness from a sudden hit across the head. He looked bewildered and squinted firmly down at Alt-Dean, bringing his hand up to his own lips. It seemed like he might speak, but Dean beat him to it.

“Hey,” Dean coughed, his face creasing into a frown. “Back off, Casanova, that one isn’t yours.”

“He’s not yours either,” Alt-Cas pointed out with a raised brow, reaching out to slap Cas’s tan coat on the shoulder with his fresh hand. “Thank you, Castiel. Shall we?”

He turned and gestured to the flat, circular stone they had placed on the table, the two angels moving to sit down.

Dean stood awkwardly for a long second, slightly dumbfounded. He looked at Sam as if he wasn’t even quite sure why he was standing, before shaking his head and seating himself opposite Alt-Dean.

For a moment, Cas’s gaze fixed curiously on Dean. His eyes lingered and rolled just once up and down Dean’s full height, but he didn’t question him. Taking the flat, shining circle in his hands, Cas indicated for Dean to hold the scrying stone around the edge as he did.

“Now, Dean,” he said seriously. “You’ll need to hold the memory of the day we met in your mind very firmly. Focus on the details. When I give the command, you merely need to mentally _push_ it towards the stone,” he explained.

“Oh, just push, huh? That simple,” Dean responded dryly, despite Cas’s impatient squint. “Fine, I’ll try.”

His eyes on the stone, Cas intoned the R'lyehian words Morgan had provided his doppelganger with.

“ _Orr'euh'ee ot soth, mgah'n'ghft ya mgleth ot lloig!_ ”

The two angels and three hunters peered eagerly over into the reflective surface of the scrying stone, waiting.

A ripple seemed to run across the glassy stone, and then...

 

> _...the inside of a slightly ramshackle barn; the interior heavily warded to the rafters and beyond. A bearded man, easily recognized as Bobby Singer, sits to the front of Dean, a gun on his lap. They both rise from their seats as something akin to a storm begins to batter the roof, causing the barn to shake and rattle._
> 
> _“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind.”_

 

The sound of the storm and Dean’s voice seemed to come from behind them, making the assembled group jump.

 

> _Electric sparks rain down from the ceiling as bulbs blow, showering Dean’s vision like fireworks. The barn door flies open, snapping the heavy plank that bars it with ease. Through the entrance comes Cas, in Jimmy Novak’s body; tan trench coat, loose tie, and messy hair. He walks with a calm air of purpose, looking around in a fashion both disinterested and curious all at the same time._
> 
> _Dean and Bobby raise their shotguns, pounding a few rounds into the suited man walking towards them. It has no effect and Cas’s steady walk doesn’t even slow. Looking at each other, Dean and Bobby quickly step apart, ready to use other weapons. Dean’s hand comes into view, picking up an engraved demon-killing knife as he and Cas circle each other._
> 
> _“Who are you?”_
> 
> _“I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” the angel responds calmly._
> 
> _“Yeah? Thanks for that.”_
> 
> _Not seeming to understand or pick up on Dean’s sarcasm, the tiniest of smiles and nods briefly passes over Cas’s face, before Dean brings the knife spearing forward into his chest._
> 
> _Looking down at the knife, Cas’s expression is unchanged as he pulls it out, dropping the blade to the floor with a clang._

 

“Damn,” Sam muttered under his breath, raising an eyebrow at Cas before his attention was drawn back to to the memory.

   

> _A brief glance passes between Dean and Bobby before the bearded man swings at Cas with a crowbar. Spinning easily to catch it, the angel swiftly sends Bobby to the ground with two fingers to his forehead, Dean’s gruff old friend asleep on the floor._
> 
> _Turning back to Dean calmly, Cas speaks again._
> 
> _“We need to talk Dean... alone.”_
> 
> _Immediately going to Bobby, Dean ignores the trench-coated man while he checks on him._
> 
> _“Your friend is alive.” Cas’s attention is briefly held by the books on the table, but Dean looks up at him._
> 
> _“Who are you?”_
> 
> _“Castiel.”_
> 
> _“Yeah, I figured that much,” Dean growls. “I mean what are you?”_
> 
> _Turning to face Dean again, Cas’s gaze rests intently on his face._
> 
> _“I’m an Angel of the Lord,” he intones weightily._
> 
> _Rising to stand, Dean meets his eyes defiantly. “There’s no such thing.”_
> 
> _“This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.”_
> 
> _The impressive flash that lights the barn as the angel spreads his wings, highlighted in shadow against the barn wall, rumbles like thunder. The Cas that is highlighted in front of Dean is awe-inspiring, a heaven-sent vision of power that seems barely contained in the vessel it occupies._

 

“Your wings...” Dean murmured, his mouth curling into a slight smile as the voices in the memory continued their conversation. “...I’d forgotten you tried showing them off to intimidate me.”

“I merely wanted to make sure you believed, Dean.” It was Alt-Cas that answered, his gaze still transfixed on the scrying stone, where the conversation was wrapping up.

  

> _The somewhat terrifying angel steps closer to Dean, his vessel’s brow creased with confusion._
> 
> _“What’s the matter?”_
> 
> _Standing just too close, Cas’s head turns to the side, unblinking. For a moment the memory is completely overtaken by the angel’s widening, fantastic blue eyes; the realization of Dean’s true thoughts reflected clearly in their oceanic depths._
> 
> _“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”_

 

The stone rippled; it was solid and dark again.

There was a silence around the table for a minute, before Alt-Cas offered a slight chuckle, “It probably wouldn’t have killed me to be a bit more friendly, huh?”

Dean grinned across at him. “To be fair Cas, I’m the one that shot and stabbed you.”

“Our turn now?” Alt-Dean interjected, wrapping his hands around the edge of the scrying stone just as Dean had done. “Cas?”

His boyfriend nodded, sliding his own hands into place and repeating the incantation Cas had used.

They all sat with held breath, watching as the scene played out again, identical in all aspects.

Once it finished, they all looked at each other, slight shrugs and pursed lips passed around.

“Exactly the same,” Cas mused. “So I guess that means we need to look at a later memory next. Both of our timelines were the same during that vision.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with his angel, sounding slightly disappointed. Standing, he walked past the back of Cas’s chair and squeezed his shoulder. “It was cool to see your wings again though, buddy.”

“Yes,” Cas noted somewhat sadly. “It was.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're edging into NSFW territory in this chapter, though with only one character at present. Just a heads up!

In the dead of night, Cas stepped out of the motel room while Dean slept and made his way to the minivan, to check on its security, he told himself firmly. 

Why he was lying to himself he didn’t know, giving up all pretense of checking around the parking lot for potential car thieves and sliding himself into the passenger seat, seeking the peace and calm he craved. There was a lot more legroom than he’d expected from Dean’s complaining, but then, the seat was pushed back as far as it could go for Sam’s giant frame.

Sitting and watching as Dean slept was too much today. He’d felt hot and bothered ever since he’d woken from his embarrassing dream at Morgan’s home; his humiliation compounded by Sam’s utter lack of surprise. He found it amusing, he found it awkward, but Cas didn't miss that he was not overly surprised. Was he that transparent?

Cas closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back against the headrest. Usually, he could ignore the urges of this vessel. He could distance himself from them, tell himself that they belonged purely to the physical body and not to him. 

But in the motel room a couple of hours before, when Dean had spoken out as Alt-Dean had so innocently, thankfully kissed him—a joke, more than anything—something had pulled at him. 

The slightly possessive tone in Deans voice, the way he blinked, his momentary silence after—as if the action had bothered him. As if this Cas should only be his. It gnawed low in his stomach, creating a heat deep in his pelvis that he’d struggled to ignore.

He wasn’t kidding himself, not really. He knew Dean didn’t want him, didn’t care like that. He’d had years to say something if he did, hadn’t he? But for just that moment, that tiny dominating hint in Deans voice at the merest hint that someone else might want him…it got under Cas’s skin.

It made him want to grip Dean by that stupid, frustrating shirt that looked so good and push him back against the wall. It made him want to press his hot breath against Dean’s jaw, feel the man’s deep voice reverberate against his chest as he protested—and Dean would protest, for sure. Castiel would enjoy every moment, listening to him fight back, until he would show Dean exactly who owned who.

Heat building in his groin, Cas’s brow pulled in on itself, transforming into a frown. The vessel was greedy. Or perhaps he was. He hardly knew anymore, the difference between the two things so little. 

His right hand resting on his stomach as he reclined, he quickly cast his senses out to confirm there was no one around, walking late at night. There wasn’t, the nearest person he could sense being Dean, sleeping sprawled out on the bed just beyond the door.

_ Dean _ .

The vessels hand slipped down almost involuntarily to cup the front of his dress pants, the heel of the palm sliding down the growing bulge there in slow fractions. 

_ Dean. Frustrating, confusing, beautiful Dean. _

Cas balled his hand into a fist, fighting it momentarily. There was no need for these actions, he considered. He could simply will the reaction away by altering his vessels blood pressure; a trick that had been incredibly useful over the past years with Dean as his understanding and experience of human emotion and reaction grew.

But doing that, simply changing the settings on the vessel, robbed him of the sweet moments where he could imagine someone else's hand on him. Could imagine Dean, soothing these incredibly human urges.

His fingers dug into his thigh, his unneeded breath hitching in his chest as he considered Dean's strong, large hands.

He wasn’t sure when the zip of the clothing was lowered, all he knew was the all-encompassing  _ rightness _ when his grip came to surround the incredibly erect cock that was greedily soaking up the space between his thighs. 

_ Dean. _

A sigh toppled from Cas as he palmed at the base, already too far in to care. If he couldn’t relieve these desperate feelings how he truly desired, then this would suffice. Dean didn’t want him, he could never return Cas’s feelings, but that didn’t mean Cas could magically make them go away. Some things are beyond even angels.

Tightening his grasp finger by finger, squeezing his way up and down the sides of the vessels— _ his _ —stiff cock, Cas bit down on his bottom lip, sealing a moan inside the chamber of his mouth. God, he wanted his mouth on Dean. Wanted to lick into him, open him up and— 

The swift ratcheting up of the sensation in the pit of his stomach was only a testament to how much he’d been craving this, since that tiny possessive slip of Dean’s earlier in the day.  _ Not yours,  _ Dean had said, cautioning Alt-Dean against touching him.

The memory of the words reverberating around Cas’s mind pushed him closer to the end, the sound of his hand firmly sliding up and down his swollen flesh and his flailing breaths the only noise in the vehicle. 

_ Not yours, not yours… Dean.  _

His hand beat in time to the rhythm of Dean’s voice, the low rumble he so longed to hear claim him.  _ That one’s not yours… _ that slight tone of warning, of possessiveness, that escaped Dean uncontrolled when Alt-Dean had been too close to him.

It drove him over the edge with a gasp, his cock stiffening almost impossibly further as the crisp, navy dress pants gained a wet, new color.

The pleasure and relief that radiated out across Cas’s body was tinged with shame. Not, particularly, at the actions themselves—those he believed perfectly natural, but at the fact that Dean was only perhaps fifteen feet away, sleeping innocently with no knowledge of Cas’s emotional (and as he spent more time with humans, increasingly carnal) desires.

Flushing slightly, Cas used his grace to quickly zap away all sign of his activities and slid out of the car, fixing up his vessel’s clothes. He’d make it up to Dean in the morning, as he spent most of his life trying to make up to Dean for every other mistake. This would be no different.

He wondered briefly if, like the alternate universe their new friends came from, there was a world out there where instead of sneaking out of their motel room late at night, he’d been brave enough to slip into Dean’s bed instead.

 

***

 

The sun rose early the next morning, bright lines of light breaking around the edge of the motel room blinds and laying across Dean’s face. Noting the sunlight from his position, reading on the other bed, Cas stood and moved as quietly as he could to the window. Fiddling with the slant of the blinds for a minute, he soon realized that the sunlight was determined. No amount of blind tilting was going to shield Dean’s face. Looking around quickly, Cas picked up Dean’s cast-aside plaid overshirt and tucked it over the window like a curtain, shrouding the room once more in a pleasant, muted darkness. There was no need for Dean to wake yet, Cas figured; he should let him sleep.

Looking down at Dean’s sleep-mussed dirty blond hair on the pillow, Cas smiled to himself. 

He was grateful that Sam had been such a good friend to him the day before, being so discreet about the extent of his feelings for his brother. He couldn’t imagine that Dean— _ this  _ Dean—would react all that favorably to knowing how he really felt. Cas considered himself blessed with the friendship and brotherhood offered to him by both of the Winchesters and he didn’t want to risk that, even for his own heart.

After many millennia of the calm and focused existence of an angel of the lord, even feeling that he had a heart to risk was still a painfully new experience. He would learn to stand it, so as not to rock the boat. 

Cas slipped his boots on quietly, grabbing the room key and his almost-empty wallet. He quietly let himself out and walked down the exterior hallway of the motel complex toward the small diner that occupied the lot next door.

He heard a muffled burst of giggles; unmistakable to him as Dean’s laughter. It took Cas a split second to work out that he must be close to the doppelganger couple’s room. Without even intending to, he shifted focus to the sounds from the thin-walled room and his superior hearing picked up on the conversation within.

_ “Move your butt, Dean; you’re still on my side!”  _ Alt-Cas grumbled half-heartedly.

_ “You like me on your side.” _

_ “Move, or I’ll make you,” _ Cas heard his own laughter then, falling from the lips of his other self.

_ “Promise?” _ Alt-Dean’s voice was low and teasing, and much to Cas’s chagrin he could exactly picture the smirk that would be accompanying it.

There were sounds of shuffling and springs squeaking, more laughter as the couple inside seemed to tussle good-naturedly; then the sound of a deep, throaty moan that could only be Dean’s.

_ “Jesus Cas, I really did miss you having all of your fingers…” _

Shaking his head sharply and reddening at his cheeks, Cas refocused on his path and hurried off to the diner, somewhat ashamed to have inadvertently spied on the couple. He usually never listened in on conversations without express permission; it was one of the first things he had learned about humans—they really didn’t like it. So despite this time being unintentional, he felt a brief pang of guilt. 

He returned to the room he had reluctantly shared with his Dean just as the man was raising his head from the pillow, grumbling wordlessly and squinting around the room. 

Cas stepped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Dean opened one eye fully and then closed it again—he seemed to attempt a smile, but as his face was half covered by the pillow, it was hard to tell.

“Where’d you go?” Dean mumbled in a sleepy rush, his voice thick with disuse.

“I went to get you some coffee, of course.” Cas raised the paper cup he held, stepping towards the bed with it held forward like an offering. It was an apology, perhaps, though Dean would never know for what.

One of Dean’s green eyes opened again, searching. 

The smile was a little more visible this time. Dean lay on his side, curled up near the pillow. He shifted over, moving his legs diagonally to create a space. He patted the mattress, nodding sleepily for Cas to sit down.

“I’ll drink it here,” he mumbled, reaching for the cup as the mattress jostled slightly with the angel’s weight. 

A few gulps of bitter, burning liquid later, he finally opened both eyes. Propped up on an elbow next to Cas’s legs, he looked up to greet him with a full smile this time.

“You’re a better roommate than Sam,” he commented. His voice was still crackly with tiredness, but warm. “He makes me get out of the bed to drink my coffee.”

“I also don’t snore, or bring home women and leave you stuck sleeping in the car,” Cas added to his case with a smile. 

“Don’t tell Sam,” Dean joked lightly as he placed a hand on Cas’s thigh, using the angel’s leg as a firm platform to help him sit up, “But between the early morning runs and those green juice things, before nine a.m., you’re definitely my favorite. Our little secret.”

Dean offered the angel a lazy wink before he chugged down the rest of this coffee and Cas couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Sure, Dean. Our little secret.”

 

***

 

Dressed and a lot more awake, Dean walked to the diner with Cas for breakfast. 

“It’s truly heartbreaking that you can’t appreciate a good pancake, Cas,” Dean mourned for him. 

Cas shrugged. “Some things are better than others, but pancakes just taste like hot flour molecules.”

“Mmm. Sounds delicious,” Dean responded dryly as they dawdled slowly across the parking lot. He reached his hands above his neck in a long stretch, causing his white undershirt to rise up and show his slim, strong but just-slightly-soft stomach. 

Unable to resist, Cas reached over and poked him teasingly on the band of exposed skin as they walked. 

“Ugh, don’t…” Dean grumbled mildly. “I’m hungry and sloshy with coffee.” 

Dean’s gaze grew thoughtful as he regarded the angel walking next to him, taking him in with an almost curious smile. He didn’t say anything, but he tilted his head as if his companion had done something odd or unusual. 

“Well, I’m sure a decent plate of pancakes and bacon will cure that,” Cas offered casually as they entered the diner. Waiting for a waitress to seat them, the angel’s attention was caught through the window.

Dean looked, craning his neck to see what his friend was staring at with such an odd expression on his face. He looked bothered and  _ longing _ somehow, almost jealous.

“Whatcha staring at, buddy?”

Scanning the parking lot, Dean managed to follow Cas’s gaze to the walkway outside the motel rooms, back the way they had walked. Emerging from their room came the Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas.

“Nothing,” Cas answered quickly, turning his body around on the spot so that his back was to the window. He raised a hand to flag down a server to seat them more quickly.

Dean looked thoughtfully at the alternate-universe couple as they paused outside their room, their lips moving as they chatted and joked with one another. Alt-Dean’s hand raised to affectionately run through his angel’s messed up dark hair. It looked as if he was fondly teasing him on the state of it. A few more words passed between them, a grin, then the angel reached up to press his lips to Alt-Dean’s, sharing a slow morning kiss before they linked hands and strolled nonchalantly toward the diner. 

A jolt of surprise ran through Dean as he replayed echoes of the conversation he'd had with his other self in his mind. Suddenly, it was like something clicked into place. 

“Cas,” Dean reached to grip the angel’s arm, pulling his attention back, “are you  _ jealous _ of them? The other us?”

Cas blinked and his face suddenly shifted into what might have been panic.

“You said on the airplane, flying here, that you were envious of the other Cas. But you made it sound like it was just because he’d mastered humanity so much better than you have…” Dean’s voice betrayed his shock, and his eyes darted back to the window where the unknowing couple were almost to the diner.

Cas’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip; he looked like he’d been caught in a searchlight. 

“You’re jealous of him because… because of Dean? Because you… because you want that?” Dean finished awkwardly, becoming increasingly aware of what he was saying, and that he sounded bewildered and probably looked astonished. In reality, he was just surprised—and feeling more than a bit stupid.

“Cas?” he probed gently when the angel still didn’t answer. 

The door behind them swung open and Alt-Cas stepped into the diner in his sweatpants and a dark Kansas shirt. 

“Morning, other-selves,” he commented lightly with a smile. “Want to grab a booth and—”  

He was suddenly cut off by the approximately 180 pounds of panic and trench coat that barreled past him out of the door.

“Something I said?” Alt-Dean questioned as he stepped into the diner behind his boyfriend, looking confused.

“No,” Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Something I said, actually. He probably just needs a little time. Pancakes?”

Dean diverted his attention to the diner, but his eyes kept flicking back to the door Cas had dashed through, confused and not a little concerned.

Alt-Dean rubbed his hands together almost gleefully. “And bacon.”

 

***

 

The three of them were shortly joined by Sam, who decided to go all-in and treat himself to a Heart-Smart Platter.

“Where’s Cas, Dean?” Sam questioned as his food arrived, moving his fork to the side so that the cute brunette waitress he’d been smiling at could place his plate down.

“He was here when we arrived,” Alt-Dean said around a mouthful of bacon. “But then he ran away like your brother bit him.”

Dean fixed his other-self with a warning glare, but then resolutely remained focused on cutting up his pancakes.

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, waiting.

“It’s personal,” Dean eventually snapped, stabbing a piece of pancake quite viciously.

Sam and the doppelganger couple exchanged knowing glances, but they wisely kept their mouths shut and finished eating.

The plates were being cleared away, and they were being provided with coffee refills by the time Cas reappeared. He shifted awkwardly in the doorway for a minute, scanning the room.

Sam poked his brother in the arm, pointing out the angel to him. Dean raised a hand, waving Cas over with a smile that Sam thought might be just a little too carefully normal. But Dean was trying, it seemed, so he said nothing.

Pushing his phone to the center of the table, Sam cleared his throat and helpfully restarted the conversation as Cas settled into the empty seat next to him.

“So, let’s take a look at our driving route today. We can head straight back across Oregon and probably a good third or half of Idaho easily, but if we drive in shifts we can probably hit Wyoming before the day is out,” he suggested. “Depends how much of a hurry you guys are in to get back to your world.”

Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas exchanged a look. 

“It takes as long as it takes with the stone, of course, but...as much as it’s been an  _ experience _ meeting you guys,” Alt-Dean began carefully, “we’re pretty worried about what’s going on in our own world. Our version of Morgan Hallow is not as nice as the one here, and we’ve got no idea what she might have done to my brother.”

Sam nodded. “Of course. Strange to think of there being another me, back there all by himself,” he offered. 

The couple exchanged a look like they were judging whether or not to tell him something. This world’s Dean and Cas looked up from their coffees, waiting out the pregnant pause.

“Well, Sam isn’t  _ always _ alone,” Alt-Dean clarified. “His girlfriend Eileen visits a lot. In fact, we kinda think…” he looked sideways at his Cas for a moment. “We think she’s probably going to come and stay for good soon.”

Sam looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Eileen? Eileen Leahy?’

“She does exist here, then?” Alt-Cas questioned carefully. “We did wonder—you haven’t mentioned her at all.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam cleared his throat, his eyes falling down to his half-empty coffee cup. “There was an Eileen here. She was killed maybe three or four months back.”

There was a sharp, uncomfortable silence around the table. Cas was the one to break it, the first he’d spoken since he appeared, “I’m sorry, Sam.” His hand went to his friend’s shoulder. 

Reaching up to squeeze at Cas’s hand in appreciation, Sam smiled. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s weird. Kinda sad. But I guess I’m happy there’s a universe where that all worked out differently.”

Another few quiet minutes followed before the group began to look at the map again, plotting out their stops.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey guys,” Alt-Dean called up to the front from the back seat. “Cas and I were talking last night, and we wondered if it’d be okay with you all if we disappeared off for a bit this evening, once we’re done driving for the day?”

Dean, driving up front with Sam shotgun, raised an eyebrow jokingly in the mirror. “Getting tired of us, Mary-Kate?” 

“Tired of your awful twin jokes, I imagine,” Sam commented dryly, before turning around to speak to Alt-Dean. “You guys want a little alone time?”

The doppelganger Dean and Cas looked at each other for a moment with a slight smile. It was Alt-Cas who responded.

“Actually, when we got zapped over to this world, we were in the middle of an anniversary dinner. We’d kind of like to finish it.”

“Oh, right!” Sam nodded firmly. “Dean mentioned that. Of course, guys. We were going to stop at a motel on 84 but…”

Sam paused for a moment, flicking through his phone swiftly.

“Twin Falls, Idaho,” he announced proudly after a minute. “It's a decent city, you should have plenty of options.” 

“We should push and try to get there a little early so we can hit up a clothing store first,” Dean butted in, seeming to encourage the idea.

Sam looked at him in confusion. “You care what your other-self wears on dates now?”

“Not particularly. But I do care that three people in this damn car are currently wearing my clothes, and I have no clean underwear left.”

“All right then,” Sam agreed with a brief cringe. “Clothing store first, so we don't all choke on Eau du Dean all the way home.”

Adjusting their destination by a mile or two, Sam guided Dean into a different lane on the freeway.

The beaten old minivan did pretty well despite its condition. The Dean's had managed to secure the broken door with some cable ties and despite her awful dents and propensity to chew through fuel, Dean had to admit she was kind of comfortable. She was no Impala, but she'd been a trooper and he confessed to Sam that he was thinking of fixing her up and keeping her.

“Well, I can fake you up some new plates for her Dean, but the four kids and soccer games are on you,” Sam deadpanned.

“A picket fence around the bunker wouldn't take much time.” Cas joined in quietly with the teasing, much to Dean's surprise—he hadn't said a word in the hours since breakfast.

“I'll help you, Cas,” Alt-Cas called up from the back. “We wouldn't want Dean's dog escaping and terrorizing the neighbors. He'll get fined by the homeowners association.”

Startled to hear both angels laughing in unison, Dean kept quiet and let the teasing go, focusing once more on the road. Whatever made the seraphim stop riling each other up was completely worth it.

 

***

 

“Sam found this place when we were researching restaurants,” Alt-Cas explained to his boyfriend, who he was eagerly pulling up the stairs behind him, fingers linked. “I think you'll like it, Dean.”

They stepped out onto the outdoor patio of Elevation 486, an eatery not far from Twin Falls that overlooked the gulch. Both of them were outfitted in smart, dark jeans and crisp button-down shirts that this world’s Winchesters had generously provided them with; Alt-Cas's was a dark blue that matched his eyes, Alt-Dean's a silken gray. 

Ignoring admiring glances from a pair of women at the outdoor bar, the couple stood and took in the view; their arms around each other's waists in a proud, almost possessive stance on both of their parts. 

“Wow, Cas,” Alt-Dean let out a low whistle. “This view is breathtaking.”  

The scenery seemed to stretch out endlessly to the horizon in front of them, a red stone ravine that dug down deep and wide in front of the restaurant, which sat elevated on the cliff at one side of the gulch. The setting sun made the water of the wide, lazy-looking river below glow, and the rocky outcrops around the waterfall tinted warm oranges and reds.

“It sure is breathtaking,” Alt-Cas responded so earnestly that Alt-Dean didn't even have to look over at him to know that the angel was looking at him, rather than at the sprawling spectacle of nature spread out below.

“You're a sap, Cas,” he grinned, jostling him with a shoulder.

“And you love it,” Alt-Cas retorted with a snort, leading Alt-Dean towards a couple of chairs near a quiet fire pit that sat in a secluded spot on the patio, away from other patrons.

With a selection of excellent whiskeys on the way and menus to hand, they relaxed and looked out over the open sky reflected in the river far below.

 

***

 

Dean looked down at his phone, sitting on the motel bed next to him, his brows meeting with something akin to concern. “Do you think the other Dean will call straight away to let us know how it went? Or they'll take a bit of time first?’

“You are way too invested in this, Dean,” Sam laughed as he adjusted the collar of his shirt in the mirror. “I didn't realize you were such a sap.”

Dean shrugged, bringing one of his booted feet up to rest on the edge of the mattress, looking down at it as he tied the lace. “Just because our life isn't ever going to be Sunday grilling in the suburbs, doesn't mean they shouldn't get that.”

Clearing his throat, Cas dragged his attention from the TV back to the room. With his trench coat and suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up on his white shirt, he was technically already dressed. “Did the other Dean explain what he wanted with the scrying stone?” he asked curiously.

“Nope,” Dean responded. “All he let me know before they left was that Sam found Dad's wedding ring—his version of it I guess—on the floor in the bunker, so he was going to go ahead as planned. Not let that crazed witch spoil everything.” 

“It looked kinda cool actually,” Sam interjected as he turned back to them from the mirror. “Whatever magical flame the witch used to send them here burned the ring, turned the gold this kinda smokey black color. Dean said the color reminded him of his Cas’s wings.”

Tilting his head slightly curiously, Sam looked to their Cas. “I guess yours would be the same color right?”

The angel nodded mutely. 

Dean immediately stood up, slapping Sam on the shoulder and pushing him ahead out of the motel room. 

“Let's go find something to eat while we wait.” Once clear of the door, just to Sam, Dean added quietly, “The other Dean also mentioned in the car yesterday that it took nearly  _ three years _ of being together before Cas showed him his wings.”

“Why?” Sam's brow creased in confusion as he stepped out into the parking lot. 

“Because they are  _ destroyed _ , Sam.” Dean almost sounded annoyed. “Have you never wondered what they must look like now? How they must feel? After the fall, burning...” Dean shook his head.

“Oh,” Sam answered quietly. “Should I apologize?” He looked back to where Cas was closing the motel door behind them as they headed to the minivan.

“No. Just maybe don't bring it up unless he does. I'm just...” Dean exhaled, looking at Sam from the corner of his eye as he climbed behind the wheel. “I'm starting to realize that there's a lot of stuff where we… where  _ I _ … have kinda let Cas down. I don't want to bring up anything that's going to hurt his feelings. I've done enough of that already.”

Raising an eyebrow at his older brother, Sam wisely did not respond.

 

***

 

Eating at the edge of the gulch felt like a meal at the edge of the world. Even while eating the delicious food, which even Alt-Cas ordered, the couple couldn’t stop gazing off at the scenery. For a while, Alt-Dean and his lover felt almost like they were home, not in another world and worried about their family. It was a peaceful interlude, and for them, that had always had to be enough.

Alt-Cas stood to leave, voicing a hopeful question about calling a cab and going on somewhere else for a drink or four.

Tapping his pocket to check the contents, Alt-Dean placed a hand briefly on his angel’s arm, guiding him back down to his seat. 

“Hey Cas, before we go...” Alt-Dean reached down to the bag he had brought in from the car, pulling out the flat circle of stone the group had been using to find their way home. 

Alt-Dean looked around, making sure that the patio was practically empty and ensuring that their corner was secluded from prying eyes.

“I asked the other Dean and Cas if I could borrow this,” Alt-Dean began as he slid the scrying stone onto the table in front of them. He pulled his chair around next to the angel, smiling reassuringly at his confusion. “There’s just something I kinda wanted to show you, as I have a chance.”

Alt-Cas raised one dark eyebrow in surprise, but nodded, so they settled next to the stone together and Alt-Dean murmured the words to begin.

The scrying stone rippled, bringing forward Alt-Dean’s memory from their other timeline.

> _ A dark road lit by a flash of light—white like grace, illuminating the woman stood before Dean from within. Bright rays blasted out of her skin viciously, much like the silver pointed blade that erupted from her chest, pushed through from the back like a skewer. _
> 
> _ As she fell, Cas’s troubled face came into view behind her, his expression tortured but somehow decisive.  _
> 
> _ “Cas!” Dean’s voice rang out. “What have you done?” _
> 
> _ “I had to, Dean.” The angel’s voice shook. “This sad, doomed little world, it needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get. I will not let you die, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself… you mean too much to me. You made a stupid deal, and I broke it. You’re welcome.” _
> 
> _ Dean stepped forward, “And you don’t think there will be consequences for this, Cas?” His voice was incredulous, despairing. “You don’t think the Reapers will come after you, now? That whatever Death is these days won’t?” _
> 
> _ “I know, Dean.” Cas hung his head, not resisting as Dean stepped up to him, crushing him in a desperate, fearful hug. “But I don’t have an afterlife to worry about. Angels don’t have souls, don’t have a Heaven to go to… What happens to me after I die won’t be any worse than the eternity of nothingness I was already guaranteed. If you live, it’s all worth it, Dean. You’re everything, to the world… to me.  I need you.” _
> 
> _ The vision within the stone blurred as if Dean’s eyes were filling with tears as he and Cas clung onto each other in silence. _

The vision rippled, then drew back and brought the stone back to blank solidity.

“Castiel,” Alt-Dean’s voice was earnest as he reached forward to caress the angel’s cheek, turning his face back towards him. Their eyes met, green to blue, and held like magnets.

“Even before I had the courage to tell you I loved you, I was always committed to having you by my side until the day I died. But it was after that day, when you killed that Reaper and risked so much for us, that something changed. I realized then, that isn’t  _ enough,  _ Cas. You don’t have a soul. When you die, there’s no Heaven waiting for you, and without you, there’s no Heaven for me either. I don’t want to be separated from you.”

Alt-Cas’s eyes widened slightly at Alt-Dean’s movement; sliding his hand down from the angel’s cheek to hold his hand, Alt-Dean was lowering himself to one knee.

“I want you to be with me  _ always _ , Cas. I’ve never loved anyone even a shadow of the way I love you. Maybe you won’t need a Heaven if you can share mine. Would you,  _ ol oi-iad hoath?  _ Would you share my Heaven?”

Reaching into his pocket, Alt-Dean exhaled shakily before he held the fire-blackened gold ring up for his boyfriend’s inspection.

“Will you marry me, Castiel?”

Alt-Dean looked up to Alt-Cas, silhouetted against the darkening, beautiful gulch that felt like the end of the world, and held his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was interested, Twin Falls, Idaho is a very real place, as is the particular restaurant that Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean eat at. There are a ton of beautiful waterfalls in Idaho, but this one just worked for the story! You can have a look at their view from the scene [here](https://resi.ze-robot.com/img/shoshone-falls.-twin-falls-idaho.html).


	12. Chapter 12

Dean’s phone bounced across the table to alert him to an incoming video call, a deliberately terrible photo of Sam with his hair all over the place appearing on the screen. Looking over at Cas and his brother, who had sacrificed his cell to their alternative-selves, he grinned in anticipation.

“Time to find out,” Sam whispered eagerly as Dean picked up the incoming video call.

“Hey guys, how’s your date going?” Dean asked carefully, waiting a second for the video to load as they all craned their necks to see the phone screen.

Alt-Cas dominated the screen, grinning widely; his eyes slightly bloodshot and red at the edges.

“Hey, guys. Uhm… it’s going well,” he managed before Alt-Dean nudged him out of the screen with a laugh.

“You said you’d stopped crying Cas, Jesus.” Turning his attention back to the call, he grinned at Sam and Dean. “Well, he said yes, I assume. It was a little hard to understand.”

A nose could be heard blowing off the screen, and a defensive voice came in from the side. “Sam, Castiel, don’t let your Dean _ever_ fool you—because I can assure you that he is capable of the sappiest, most romantic _crap_ you could ever conceive of. I hate him. Look what he did to me.”

Pulling the phone back from his boyfriend, Alt-Cas lifted the phone into the light and his beaming, tear-stained face filled the screen.

“It’s ridiculous. I think my vessel is broken, I keep making it stop and it comes back.” Alt-Cas somehow sounded genuinely annoyed.

Sam laughed, tilting Dean’s phone so they could all see. “I guess you’re allowed, just this once. Congratulations, guys!”

“Yes, congratulations,” Cas joined in from slightly behind them, sounding less enthused but perfectly genuine.

For a moment, Dean looked over and caught Cas’s eye. They’d always been gifted starers, but it seemed that whole stories could have fit into their brief, intense look. Cas dropped away first. Dean had won more staring matches during this trip than he had in years. He thought Cas looked somewhat sad, but of course, he didn’t mention it.

“Congrats,” Dean echoed, suddenly slightly awkward as he turned his attention back to Alt-Dean on the telephone screen. “Do we get to hear all about it?”

“Yeah,” Sam butted in. “I wanna find out how ridiculous my brother really is.”

Dean cast him a disdainful look as the doppelgangers both squeezed into the camera view, Alt-Dean kissing one of the tear-tracks on his fiance’s face with a grin before he turned back to the boys.

“So, want to join us for that celebration now? I see Dean told you all to get yourselves ready just in case.”

Cleaned up and as smart as they’d get on the road, the three all nodded.

“Of course!” Sam answered eagerly. “We don’t get a lot to celebrate in the life of a hunter, you know. Shall we come to where you guys are?”

“No,” Alt-Dean responded, “we’re going to head to a bar downtown, something a bit more our usual speed. I’ll text you the address.”

They all nodded and chairs began to shuffle, before Alt-Dean interrupted again, looking specifically at Cas.

“Oh, and not that I planned ahead...but I’ve got several bottles of absinthe ready in the back of the car. So, grab those and take a cab—Cas isn’t driving you home today.”

 

***

 

Dean could smell the licorice-like green liquor hanging in a cloud around the two angels as they strolled back in from the parking lot, much to his amusement.

Curiously, he grinned at Cas. “I haven’t seen you drunk in years, buddy. At least the world isn’t ending this time.”

“No”, Cas responded carefully, sliding up onto a bar stool next to Dean with rather more care than he usually would, Dean noted. “But today it seemed like a _very_ good idea.”

An uncomfortable feeling tugged at Dean’s chest, and he looked over at his best friend with a guilty smile. “Cas, I don’t want you to have the wrong impression abo—”

Dean was halfway through a word when Sam’s arm wrapped firmly around his neck, the other encompassing Cas. “Come on!” He bellowed enthusiastically, pulling them both down off their stools.

Cas looked at Dean sharply, alarmed.

“Never seen energetic-drunk Sam before?” Dean asked him with a grin. “Well, aren’t you in for a treat. This here,” he slapped his excitable brother on the shoulder, “I refer to as College Sam. I hope you enjoy dumb drinking games, Cas.”

Cas looked as if he was certain he would _not_ enjoy whatever that was; reeking of absinthe and poor decisions, he was dragged along behind Sam regardless.

Leading them through a mass of bodies, Sam lead them to a booth in the back where the alternate-universe couple already sat, taking a moment alone to drunkenly make-out like teenagers.

Dean averted his eyes slightly. He was no prude. Usually, he’d have been one to wink or wolf-whistle. He’d have teased them a little, if they were any other friends. But this was him and Cas, just as much as it wasn’t. It was close to home—and yet not—in a way that hurt oddly beneath his ribcage.

Sam shielded his eyes dramatically. “Gross guys, really. Little brother and friend, here.”

Dropping heavily into the booth next to Alt-Dean, Sam pushed a couple of glasses of what looked like whiskey across the table to where Dean and Cas had settled themselves. “On me!” he announced happily.

“It’s a fake credit card, Sam,” Dean pointed out dryly. “It’s not on anyone.”

“Even better!” His brother’s eyes glinted in amusement and Dean realized that they really _did_ need to get out of the bunker more often.

Breaking away from their tipsy kisses, the newly engaged Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean were laughing at Sam.

“Is it so horrible to see a version of your brother be _happy_?” Alt-Cas questioned.

Sam wrinkled his nose, popping an ice cube into his mouth, crunching around it between his words. “Happiness is fine. This is kinda weird, though—I didn’t get time to get used to it! I only know you as friends in this world and now suddenly there’s engagement rings and sloppy kissing noises. I feel like I have whiplash,” he grumbled, swallowing down the now-crushed ice.

“Oh…” Alt-Dean asked nonchalantly. “So you’d be fine with it if, y’know, you’d seen it from the beginning? If it wasn’t such a shock?”

His brow creasing firmly, Sam wagged a slightly intoxicated finger at his alternate brother. “Of course I would be, I’m not a neanderthal, Christ… I want _all_ my angels and _all_ my Deans to be happy!” He gestured widely around the table, his hand flying barely an inch past the end of Dean’s nose.

Dean jerked his face out of the way of his younger brother’s flailing limbs and went back to his whiskey with a chuckle. As Alt-Dean launched into a story of his Sam discovering that he and Alt-Cas were together, Dean shook his head and tore his attention away. He leaned over to speak to Cas, who sat next to him, speaking up over the din of the other patrons.

“So how much does it take to actually get you drunk, Cas?”

The angel grinned toothily, his fragrant breath hitting Dean’s cheek as he leaned close to respond. “Quite a lot, but I figured out drinking with Jo years ago that speed helps. Chug down a couple of bottles of absinthe and I get a pretty good start, at least.”

Dean could swear the seraph giggled.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time, Cas. I’m sorry we haven’t done something like this sooner. If you wanted to come out like this and drink with us and relax, we could have,” he admitted.

“Dean,” Cas responded gently, knocking Dean with his closest shoulder. “I don’t need to drink to have a good time with you. But today was—” his brow creased briefly, “— awkward, for me. I was embarrassed. So this helps.”

Dean laughed. “Not so unlike a human after all,” he winked across at Cas, finishing up his whiskey. “At least you’re a fun drunk.”

“More like a human than you’d think,” Cas confirmed with a grin, pulling away from their close conversation to down the rest of his whiskey in a swift gulp.

Standing, Cas reached for Dean’s glass. Definitely feeling the bottles of absinthe he and his doppelganger had pre-gamed their evening with, he gave Dean a quick wink.

“Fun drunk—so that means you want another, yes?” Cas’s voice was hopeful, and he smiled like he was trying to make up for something Dean didn’t quite understand.

“Of course.” Whiskey heating his cheeks, Dean handed the glass over. He turned from grinning at the retreating angel to find the Alt-Cas eyeing him with a raised brow.

“I remember that,” he casually called over the table, leaning over it towards Dean so they didn’t have to raise their voices as much.

“Remember what?” Dean questioned.

“The awkward flirting stage. For us, it was somewhat different. But once we’d worked out we each actually liked the other, that stage was kind of terrible,” he laughed. “I had no idea what I was doing and neither did he.”

Dean froze. “You…you think that’s what we’re doing?”

Alt-Cas’s eyebrow continued its journey north as he raised his hands defensively, a drunken exaggeration to the motion. “Dean, I am not even going there. If you haven’t worked out what you’re doing yet, then for goodness sake _definitely_ don’t ask me. Your Cas already hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Dean dodged expertly, “I think he’s… envious, if anything, of how much easier things are for you now.”

“Sure,” Alt-Cas rolled his eyes. “ _That’s_ what he’s envious of. Oh!”

Suddenly Alt-Cas’s attention was torn from Dean, and instead, he was shaking at his fiance’s shoulder. He pointed across the room to the karaoke setup that had just been revealed; they slid out of the booth swiftly, bickering good-naturedly about what they were going to sing, leaving Dean with Sam.

Flagging down a passing waitress carrying a tray of shot glasses that contained some unnamed, brightly-colored horror, Dean wrinkled his nose as his brother pressed one on him. It tasted like bubblegum mouthwash.

“This is worse than drinking with Crowley,” he muttered distastefully, stealing the dregs of Sam’s whiskey to wash it away.

Caught by the sound of his own drunken voice, he and Sam both turned to look at the stage in the corner where the happy couple were enthusiastically belting out a rendition of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me”.

Sam laughed, nodding to Alt-Cas before he looked back at Dean. “Still weird to see him like that,” he offered.

“Yeah. Getting used to it though.” Dean admitted.

“You prefer him like that?” Sam asked boldly, looking straight at his brother with a challenge in his eyes, one that he probably wouldn’t have had without the fourth whiskey.

“Uh,” Dean gulped eloquently,his expression clearly questioning what exactly Sam was really asking. “No. Well, I mean… yeah, I guess. Takes a little getting used to but this other Cas… this better Cas, I guess… he’s happier than ours, I think.”

Dean became aware of a whiskey-bearing angel at his side, freezing at his words

“I mean, no, I don’t _prefer_ him like that, he’s not _better_ , just that—” he turned to address Cas, but he was already gone; whiskey left on the table, he had stepped away and blended into the crowd.

Sam slapped both of his hands over his mouth with a dramatic gasp.

Rolling his eyes at his now giggling brother, Dean swiped his brother’s glass away from in front of him, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Samantha, get yourself a glass of water while I find Cas.”

Circling the room looking for Cas, Dean was vaguely aware of Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas crooning drunkenly along to Alice Cooper’s “Hell Is Living Without You” as he searched. Making the mistake of walking too close to the edge of the stage, the other version of himself dragged him up to take his place, drunkenly slurring something about hitting the head before he left him with Alt-Cas.

 _At least I can see better up here,_ Dean thought as he scanned the crowd. Part way through the second verse of AC/DC’s _‘T.N.T’_ he finally spotted Cas. The angel was stood near the door, having just collected his trench coat and started shrugging it back on. His eyes were caught by Dean and Alt-Cas up on the stage, singing closely together. A startled look of horror quickly gave way to a deep, almost angry frown as he turned to step out into the parking lot.

Jumping straight down from the stage without bothering with the steps, Dean darted through the crowd to crash through the door after him into the cooling night air.

“Cas!” Dean felt anxiety tighten his chest. It mattered to him a lot, he realized, that the angel was clear about their conversation that morning and everything since.

Cas didn’t turn, continuing to stroll across the parking lot with his head down, illuminated by garish flashing lights from the bar.

“Cas! Don’t pretend you can’t hear me, you dick!” Dean yelled as he jogged up behind him.

When Dean caught the sleeve of the tan trench coat and tugged it back, Cas finally turned. The angel had a frown like the barrel of a gun, but Dean willingly made himself the target.

“Cas. Please.”

“What?” His voice was emotionless, the wall back up—and Dean could hear every painful brick.

“I know emotions aren’t your strong point. So let me help you out—this one is called jealousy, and right now it’s pointless. Because I wouldn’t trade him for you, Cas. He is not better than you.”

Cas’s eyes drifted away into the flashing lights, but Dean was having none of it; reaching to grasp his jaw, he forced his eyes back.

“ _He is not better than you._ I’m sorry I made you feel like he was. This is my fault. _”_

The angel jerked his chin back out of Dean’s grasp, but his frown softened. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Dean— your horrified face at breakfast this morning told me _everything_ I needed to know, the rest was just icing on the cake. Go back and have fun,” he slurred slightly.  “I’m going to wait out here until everyone is done. Alone.”

There was no waiting though. Even as Cas finished his sentence, Sam and the two doppelgangers came clambering raucously out of the bar door, stumbling across the parking lot towards them. Clearly, they had missed their companions and come to find them.

Dean looked troubled, frowning slightly at the others as they approached. He closed his mouth before he made whatever response he’d been considering.

Raising his arm to hail a passing taxi cab, Cas turned his back on Dean and focused on speaking clearly enough to give the driver the address of their motel.


	13. Chapter 13

Several glasses of water and one swift trip to the bathroom later, Sam stood in the middle of the twin motel room he was sharing with Dean and Cas. The angel sat on the end of the bed furthest from the door, frowning into mid-air. Dean sat on the side of the other mattress, facing into the room and alternately frowning and gazing thoughtfully at Cas. Sam looked back and forth between them as he ditched his boots.

“One of you is going to have to move unless you want to share a bed with me,” he commented idly as he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt ready to sleep. Throwing his jeans over the back of a nearby chair, he raised an eyebrow as he turned. “Well? You’re the ones who are always saying I’m too huge to share with.”

There was silence, and Sam shifted awkwardly. “Are you going to take a chair, Cas…? Or…?”

Sam moved from one foot to the other, getting tired now as his buzz faded. His drooping expression made it clear exactly how much he wished he was under the blankets already.

Dean exhaled, but instead of responding to Sam he stood and stepped up to Cas, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

“Are we going to talk about this ‘us’ issue at all? Or just make Sam uncomfortable for the foreseeable future?”

Wide-eyed, Sam jolted and lunged for the door. “Oh boy—that’s my cue! I’m out!” he grumbled quickly and escaped before he could be involved in whatever was coming.

Watching him go with some surprise, Cas turned to Dean. “I was making him uncomfortable?” He raised an eyebrow, honestly questioning.

“No, Cas.” Dean sat down on the end of the bed with a sigh. “We both were. We have to talk about this.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, Dean,” Cas replied stiffly, standing and habitually moving to put the chain back into the lock on the door after Sam’s swift exit.

There was a long, slow exhale from Dean before he spoke again. “But what if there _is_ something to talk about?”

Cas just stared at him.

Reaching out in a long stretch from where he sat at the end of the twin bed once more, Dean managed to catch the angel’s hand. “Please just sit with me a minute,” he sighed.

Nodding once, Cas lowered himself next to Dean. He seemed like he was steeling himself; sitting perfectly still with his back straight.

“Okay.”

“Christ Cas, relax, I’m not a proctologist. I just want to say something and make sure that you’ll listen.”

“Actually, if you were a proctologist I’d _have_ to relax,” Cas commented, giving Dean a nervous little smile.

Dean blinked and gave a sharp little laugh. “Did you just… deliberately make that joke?”

Cas nodded, smiling a little more.

“Wait ‘til I tell Sam that your transition into humanity began in earnest with a butt-doctor joke.”

They laughed together for a moment, a gloriously at-ease sound that gave Dean hope that things could be fine between them.

“Cas.” Dean turned his body slightly, angling towards Cas as they perched next to each other on the end of the mattress.

Cas’s intense blue gaze came up to catch his, but he waited quietly for Dean to speak.

“I know that having the other Dean and Cas here has been really hard for you. I’m sorry if I have unknowingly, in any way, been making it worse...”

Dean paused, looking down to where he still loosely held Cas’s hand from pulling him to the bed. He reaffirmed his grip, twining his fingers with Cas’s perhaps just a little too tightly.

“...I just want to make sure that you realize,” Dean’s green eyes struggled back up to Cas’s face, “I wouldn’t trade you for him.”

Dean observed Cas swallow hard as he continued speaking.

“He may be able to tell jokes and judge tone like a human would, maybe he can express feelings and relate to people more than you can. But he is not _better_ than you, Cas. Just like that Dean, too—he’s so much more comfortable with himself than I am, he seems to have worked past his hang-ups much better than I have. He speaks Enochian, whereas I’m so selfish I never even thought that might be nice for you to hear. But you know what? He isn’t better than me either. We started from the same place they did. We have the potential to be them if we want to be, or to be other people entirely.”

Dean exhaled, rubbing his spare hand at his tired neck and smiling nervously at Cas before he jumped back into his speech.

“I wasn’t _horrified_ when I realized how jealous you were at breakfast this morning, Cas.” Dean’s voice became incredibly quiet, “I was just surprised. This whole situation, if you haven’t noticed, is kind of crazy. I was taken unawares and I didn’t know what to do.”

He cleared his throat before diving back in, speaking a little too fast, his voice shaking.

“I like you, Cas. I always have. I think—I hope—that we both always felt _something._ But now, with all this, seeing how they are… I feel like we missed a bunch of stuff, y’know? Like we got stuck at the beginning and now we’ve seen the end, but we missed out on everything in between.”

Cas seemed frozen.

They both sat, looking down at their entwined hands. Neither of them could work out what to say and yet they didn’t pull away from each other, the conversation not done.

Cas could sense Dean’s growing tiredness. Realizing that it was late and that he should say something to reassure Dean, he had finally just cleared his throat to speak when there was a nervous-sounding tap at the door and Sam’s voice from outside.

“Uh, guys… sorry, but it’s starting to rain and I’m not wearing any pants out here…”

Breaking the silence with a disbelieving laugh, Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he stood and unhooked the chain on the door. “Come on in, Sammy. You’re not interrupting anything at _all_ ,” he grumbled sarcastically.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sam bitched right back, “but I have wet feet and there are some _horrific_ noises coming from the doppelganger room a couple doors down. As your innocent younger brother, you’re both going to need to get over it and let me go to sleep now.”

With that, Sam flopped his long body down on top of the other twin bed, pulling a pillow over his head.

“You’re an ass, Sammy.” Dean shook his head in defeat, laying back on his own bed with an apologetic, sad look to Cas. “Rain check? Maybe you can tell me what you were going to say another time?”

Cas nodded, half of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Sure, Dean. Some other time.”

Fully clothed up to and including his usual trench coat, Cas was still sat at the end of Dean’s bed. Dean tucked his bare legs under the blanket, pushing his feet down until they were blocked by the angel’s weight on the sheets.

“Either go sit in the chair or move over a bit so I can stretch out,” Dean mumbled somewhat tiredly into his pillow.

For a moment Cas paused, looking between the chair on the other side of the room and Dean in the bed.

He stood and stepped up to the other side of the mattress. Dean let out a sleepy grunt as Castiel pushed on his shoulder to get him to move over. He sat back down with his legs on top of the blanket and leaned his back against the wall next to Dean’s head. With his arms folded, Cas looked across to check on Sam before settling himself comfortably to watch over Dean while he slept.

 

***

 

It was late in the morning by a time the knock came on the motel door; neither Sam nor Dean had shown the tiniest inclination towards waking up prior to it.

It was Sam that stirred first, taking in the room with a bleary glance of regret. His brother was still asleep, his head resting just slightly on the thigh of the angel who sat stiffly at the top of his bed, his head tilted back against the wall with his eyes closed. Despite appearances, Sam knew better than to think Cas was sleeping.

“Cas,” he croaked. “Can you get the door?”

Opening his eyes to look over at Sam, Cas watched the hungover, longer-haired man struggle to lift his head from the pillow, his brown locks in disarray. He shook his head, indicating silently to Dean’s sleeping form. His awkward, curled-up position had Cas pinned to the bed.

“Do _you_ want to be the one to wake him up?” he hissed quietly, his squint making it clear he was nursing an uncomfortable head of his own.

Grumbling, but taking Cas’s point, Sam shuffled his way towards the door. He paused, raising an eyebrow at Dean and Cas’s position on the bed, a teasing comment almost visible on his lips. After a second though, he seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth it—his head hurt too much.

Unhooking the chain, gun in hand, he was met by the sight of the bleary-eyed Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean, with identical squints in the harsh sunlight.

“We woke up,” Alt-Cas stated, seeming very displeased about it. “Well, he did. I slowly descended into a hangover while still awake, and—” he eyed Alt-Dean as if this was a familiar discussion, “—I’m telling you, that’s way worse. Breakfast? It’s almost ten.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Sam opened the door and went searching for his pants while the couple shuffled inside. Alt-Dean had yet to say a word, Sam noted with amusement.

“Should… we wake him for breakfast?” Still wearing his habitual trench coat, Cas indicated the still-comatose Dean on his leg. He didn’t sound particularly convinced it was wise.

Alt-Dean raised a brow from the doorway, his eyes raking very pointedly up and down Cas’s position on the bed. “Looks like that’s your problem from now on, buddy. Meet us at the diner once he’s social, we’ll order coffee.”

Sam stepped out into the parking lot with the couple. Cas sighed, looking down at Dean. He was totally out, his mouth slightly open as his cheek and one hand rested against the angel’s slacks.

Cas shook his shoulder gently. “Dean.”

Nothing.

“Dean.”

A grunt, this time.

“Dean, you’re drooling on my pants.”

One eye opened then, part-surprised and part-confused. “Cas?”

“Yes. That’s my name. Or at least what you insist on calling me,” Cas sighed.

Dean pushed up a little off the bed, blinking slowly. “Grumpy this morning, are we?”

“My head hurts,” Cas responded flatly. “Trying to work out if it’s worth the mojo to fix. Seems like overkill, but at the same time, your voice is like a foghorn.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Dean winced. “Sorry about the, uh….” he gestured down to Cas’ lap, swiping lightly at the tiny damp drool patch on the fabric.

“It’s okay,” Cas managed a little smile. “It was my choice to sit here. Sam and the others went to breakfast; they’re ordering coffee.”

Returning to his usual morning silence, Dean nodded and slithered off the bed to find his boots.

 

***

 

“I really think we should try that next,” Alt-Dean was saying as they entered the diner. “It was kind of a big deal in the scheme of things.”

Sam shrugged. “I mean, I know you were there together, but honestly my Dean and Cas never spoke about it too much. It seems sound, though.”

Grabbing one of the full coffee cups waiting at their table before he even sat down, Dean looked around the table. “Never spoke much about what?”

“Purgatory,” Alt-Cas supplied, giving Dean a nodded greeting. “We were talking about trying out our memories of Purgatory in the scrying stone.”

Dean looked over at Cas, settling himself next to Sam in the booth, and they exchanged a look and a nod. “Yeah. Purgatory was significant. We should try that.”

“Might as well give it a go after breakfast before we get back on the road,” Sam said as the waitress arrived to take their food orders.

Sam was somewhat fascinated that Alt-Cas ordered a plate of food.  A waitress came by, depositing hot sausage and hash browns in front of the angel. She lingered for a moment, her eyes moving between the two sets of twins she probably thought she was serving. Smiling slightly, but saying nothing, she moved on.

“But you don’t eat?” Sam questioned as soon as the waitress left.

“Not usually. I have no need to. Still an angel.”

“So why?” Sam asked, indicating to the plate with his fork.

Taking a big slurp of coffee before arranging his knife and fork in his hands, Alt-Cas eventually responded.

“I’ve noticed that it makes people more comfortable. It means I can sneak Dean extra food without him feeling self-conscious or that he’s ordering too much,” he cast a sneaky side-eyed look at Alt-Dean, catching him reaching over to grab a piece of sausage even as Alt-Cas spoke, “and actually, the more I practice, the better things taste. It’s overwhelming at first, too many molecules. Taste, it turns out, has a learning curve.”

Cas watched as his alternate-self explained, his brow creased in something like curiosity. Looking at Dean’s plate of breakfast at the end of the table, he raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand towards a lone piece of bacon.

“Don’t even think about it, buddy,” Dean growled quietly, rapping Cas’s knuckles with his fork. “Dean Winchester doesn’t share bacon.”

“So… what part of Purgatory?” Alt-Dean asked with a slight smirk, moving the conversation onwards.

“The end,” both Castiels offered simultaneously.

“The portal out,” Alt-Cas added. “If timelines divulged at all while we were there, it probably would have been then.”

“Oh, you mean if you hadn’t been a dick and forced me to leave without you?” Alt-Dean noted casually, biting down into his eggs.

“I wasn’t being a dick,” Alt-Cas grumbled, though after a moment he acquiesced. “Well, maybe in hindsight I kinda was.”

“This is honestly kind of cool for me,” Sam confessed over his coffee. “I’m getting to see stuff I missed out on the first time around. Like, when you and Dean first met,” he looked to Castiel, “I was off making bad choices with Ruby. It was kinda cool to see you like that.”

“Maybe for you,” Cas offered with a slight chuckle. “I think I was a little misguided, back then. Or just an ass, depending on how you look at it.”

Sam smirked at him before continuing. “Obviously I wasn’t with you guys in Purgatory either. So seeing the memories is cool for me.”

“Not missing out on much when it comes to Purgatory,” Dean observed dryly. “It isn’t Hell, but it might as well be in some aspects.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, deciding not to comment on the fact that he saw his brother quietly handing Cas his last piece of bacon.

“It’s definitely better to see it through a scrying stone than actually be stuck there for a year,” Sam agreed. “So, shall we go scry before we get the minivan back on the road?”

There were nods and the shuffling of chairs as the group made its way up to pay and on out of the diner. As they stepped into the parking lot, the Alt-Dean pulled his twin to the side.

“So, Dean…” he asked with an obvious fake-nonchalance. “What was that about this morning?”

“The hangover? You were there.”

“The _angel,_ asshole. You can’t dodge me, I _am_ you,” Alt-Dean pointed out with a raised brow.

Dean sighed, his features rearranging into a fair approximation of his own younger brother’s famous bitch-face. “Fine. You got questions? Go.”

“Not so much questions, just… wondering, really. You were so determined that there was _nothing_ between you and your Cas but friendship. But honestly, the amount of low-level flirting the rest of us sit through is obscene, and this morning you were asleep with your head in his lap. So… still got nothing to say?”

Dean glared.

Alt-Dean glared.

“Damn it, why am I such a hard-headed dick?” Dean muttered after a minute as they trailed behind the group, heading back towards the motel.

“Runs in the family,” his doppelganger replied with a grin. “So do you like him or not? Because there’s no question that angel is crazy about you.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a question for me.”

Alt-Dean raised his eyebrows. “How the fuck so, Dean? Are you blind? Is your vision messed up in this timeline?”

“Cas hasn’t really said anything. He didn’t deny it when I called him out on being jealous the other day but he hasn’t exactly told me the truth, either, even though I kinda, well I tried. Tried to let him know, that… well. I’m not sure if he just….” Dean exhaled sharply, pushing his hand through his hair in discomfort. “I’m not sure if he actually likes me in that way, or if he’s just lonely and jealous that your Cas has something he doesn’t.”

Alt-Dean blinked slowly. He opened his mouth to respond, but in the end he threw his arms in the air and stepped ahead, moving to catch up with the rest of the group.

“I give up,” he exclaimed quietly enough for only the two of them to hear. “I’m a fucking moron in this universe.”


	14. Chapter 14

With a ripple, the scrying stone came to life.

> _ A wooded area clears into view; Dean’s vision seems to be occupied by the forest floor itself as if he was laying face down… but it swiftly moves, as if he was rolling, tossed down some kind of hill or embankment.  _
> 
> _ The scene tilts as he stands, trees zipping by as his eyes search for something. _
> 
> _ There - up where Dean seemed to have tumbled from, his eyes focus on Cas. His vision immediately zooms in to the angel, as if nothing else needs to be seen, and the scene jostles as Dean starts running towards him. _
> 
> _ Cas is being completely wailed upon by two Leviathan, their creepy eyes and too wide mouths almost gleeful as they punch over and over and over at his filthy, bearded face. _
> 
> _ His clothes in rags, the angel tries valiantly to fight back, but he can barely stand; tossed around between the two monsters like a doll.  _
> 
> _ Dean’s eyes left Cas only once as he raced closer; to check on the progress of a crackling blue portal further up the ridge above the trees. _
> 
> _ As Dean is almost to the ridge, the female Leviathan gets a firm kick to Castiel’s chest, sending him flying to the floor, sprawled out and vulnerable. As she begins to climb on top of him, Cas manages to use the split second she takes to begin unhinging her jaw to shove her off. Immediately her partner is there, pulling him up by the front of his jacket. _
> 
> _ Hauling Cas to his face, the monster’s mouth - a black void with too many teeth - starts to pull open. Dean’s vision is taken up for a moment by the back of the Leviathan’s head, before his blade separates it from its body.  _
> 
> _ There’s barely a split second for Cas’s face to register before the woman is back on them again. Catching her around the shoulders as she runs to barrel into him, Cas positions her for Dean’s blade, and she goes the way of her kin. _
> 
> _ Reaching forward to help the angel up, caked in dirt and blood, the two look at each other, enjoying a split second of relief before Dean shouts over the crackling noise of the portal and the howling wind around them, “We gotta move, the portal’s closing!” _
> 
> _ Dean’s vision is taken up with a new singular purpose; the portal out. Running up along the ridge, Cas seems to fall behind.  _
> 
> _ “Cas, damn it, come on!” Dean yells back to the stumbling angel behind him as they climb the unfriendly cliff face. _
> 
> _ Stepping into the portal, Dean’s hand reaches out toward Cas. “Come on!” _
> 
> _ Catching his arm, Dean tries to help Cas up the last few feet. “I’ve got you! Hold on!” _
> 
> _ “Dean!”  _
> 
> _ For a moment, they stood; hands clasped about each other’s forearms. Dean’s vision is completely focused on Cas’s face; not the filth or the dried blood, but the cosmic blue eyes that hold his for just a moment. They seem hopelessly sad. _
> 
> _ “Hold on!” Dean bellows, trying to reaffirm his grip. _
> 
> _ “Dean, go!” With that, Cas pushes his arm away, his decision to stay alone in this horrifying plane painfully evident in his small movement. Nonetheless, he looks wrecked as he manages to scramble back to standing. The blue crackling edges of the portal close around Dean’s vision. _
> 
> _ Then there was blackness, broken only by Dean’s angry, heartbroken-sounding scream of frustration. _

Back the ripple came, slowly severing everyone’s attention from the memory.

They sat around in the doppelganger couple’s motel room, seated cross-legged on the floor in a circle.

Sam cleared his throat first. “Well, uh, I guess we should see if you guys were the same?” He nodded to Alt-Dean.

“It’s the same.” Alt-Dean’s voice came out flatly, like he was already experiencing the memory. “We can check, make sure there’s not some great cosmic energy burst, but… that was the same for me. Unfortunately.”

Neither of the Castiels spoke, both of them seeing very attentive to their knees and the worn, seventies-orange carpet beneath them.

Eventually, Alt-Cas looked up, reaching for the scrying stone wordlessly and waiting for Alt-Dean to touch the edges in the same manner.

With the quick R’lyehian incantation, the memory rippled past again, identical in every moment, fading out with the sound of Alt-Dean’s miserable scream as the portal closed.

Without much conversation, they began to gather their things from around the room, preparing to head back to Kansas.

“Dean,” Cas called quietly as they were loading the minivan.

The group mostly moved in silence, except for the doppelganger couple, who were already seating themselves in the back row. They conversed quietly, their words shared only between the two.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up at the angel, forcing a smile though he didn’t feel much like it.

“I know we’ve both apologized to each other many times for all the mistakes we’ve both made in the past. But even so, re-living some of it is… an unpleasant reminder. It doesn’t matter how many years it takes, I’ll tell you I’m sorry as many times as you need to hear.” Cas’s voice was low, and there was still a slight crack of guilt to it, even after half a decade. 

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean tried again to smile, managing to make it warmer this time. On impulse, he reached for the angel’s shoulders and pulled him into a rough hug. “It was a long time ago. It’s okay now. We’re okay.”

He felt Cas nod against the side of his face. “I’m still sorry, but I’m glad we’re okay. It’s taken a long time. I don’t want to risk jeopardizing our friendship ever again, Dean.”

Slapping Cas on the back firmly, Dean let him go with a smile. “Right. Never again.”

 

***

 

The sounds of old Guns N’ Roses songs lulled them towards the Utah border, where they planned to follow I-84 quickly along into Wyoming. They hoped to make it as far as possible before the day was out and they’d have to stop again. 

The two Dean’s took turns to drive while Sam snoozed shotgun with his feet on the dashboard, a pair of fake Ray-Ban sunglasses shielding his hungover eyes from the sun. The two angels took turns staring flatly at each other in what seemed to have become their standard mode of miscommunication.

Around two o’clock, Alt-Dean pulled them into a dingy gas station, honking the horn sharply to bring them all to attention. “Fuel and food, guys. Warmed over burritos and questionable hot dogs—don’t go too crazy, now.”

With assorted grumbling and shuffling, they all filed out of the minivan to stretch.

Dean was paying for a baggie of sub-standard Mexican food from the gas station when Alt-Cas stepped up beside him.

“Dean…do you have a minute?” He seemed troubled, causing Dean to wonder what Alt-Cas and his partner had been quietly discussing in the back for the past few hours. 

“For you, I’ll spare one.” He grinned warmly, falling into step beside him as they walked out to a scrubby, disused picnic area that sat next to the fuel pumps. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about when we go back, Dean. Do you remember Morgan Hallow explaining how the portal would attract Dean and I like magnets, and basically catapult us back to where we should be?” 

Dean nodded, peeling the sweaty wrapper from a burrito. “Yup.”

“It’s been a few days since we came through. Do you think the portal is relative in time as well as space?”

Dean raised a baffled eyebrow. “English?”

“Do we know if the portal is going to put Dean and I back in the same place, but  _ now _ , or return us to the exact time we left? Because… well, if it returns us to the exact time we left…” Alt-Cas’s voice trailed off oddly.

“Then that’s a death sentence for you,” Dean stated flatly, catching up. “You’ll go straight back to being crispy chicken, at best.”

Alt-Cas nodded. “It seems likely.”

“Right. Well, we’re not going to let that happen, obviously.” He reached out, squeezing the angel’s shoulder and giving him a big smile. “We’ll figure this out. You’ve got a wedding to plan when you get back, after all.”

Catching Sam’s elbow as he stepped past them, Dean guided his brother down to the rickety bench beside him. “Got a few things to discuss Sam, when we get back in the van. And you can forget eating that—” Dean paused to snatch a poorly-reheated taco from Sam’s fingers. “—there are five of us in that van and the last time you ate Mexican you almost gassed us.”

“Things to discuss?” Sam scowled in irritation as he swiped at his taco in Dean’s hands, his older brother just as good at keep-away as he’d been when they were kids.

“Yes. Important, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey things,” Dean quoted with a grin, darting his arm around to stay out of Sam’s reach, much to Alt-Cas’s amusement.

“Dean!” Sam complained. “You are not allowed to steal my lunch, you will not die from salsa-farts. Now give me that taco, jerk.”

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Alt-Cas went to steal a few moments with Alt-Dean in the minivan, leaving them to it.

 

***

 

The car smelled strongly of iffy tacos. Not for the first time, Dean was glad the door didn’t close all the way. Cas and Alt-Cas, with their superior senses of smell, were huddled as close to the back window as they could get. Alt-Cas had referred to Sam as an “Abomination” before they even got onto the highway. It was going to be a long drive.

“Alright, everybody,” Sam piped up as Dean lowered his window for better airflow, “it seems like we have three orders of business to cover.”

“What is this, a family meeting?” Alt-Dean scoffed from the middle seat.

Sam laughed. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“Fair enough Sammy,” Alt-Dean grinned, “What’s on the agenda?”

“Well, firstly—we need to work out where we’re stopping to sleep tonight, unless the angels want to switch out and drive us through the night?” Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at Cas, who was staring out of the window and idly picking at his trench coat hem. “Cas?”

“I’d prefer you and Dean get some sleep at a motel, but if you really insist on continuing to go through the night I’ll drive.” He turned back to the car full of people, looking to Alt-Cas for validation.

Alt-Cas responded solemnly, “Humans need sleep. In fact, Dean is a jerk when he doesn’t get any. So let's grab a motel. I don’t think a few more hours is really going to make a difference to our journey home. We haven’t found the right memory yet anyway.” 

Alt-Dean took a moment to look offended at his fiance's comment, before shrugging. “Well, he’s right. I need my sleep. If we keep driving shifts we should make it past Cheyenne by early evening, right, Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, eyeing the map on his phone. “That’ll leave us with only a handful of hours left tomorrow until we’re back home in Kansas.” 

Turning his attention back to the rest of the car, Sam pushed his hair back in an almost nervous gesture before picking up his speech. “So, as Cas just mentioned, we haven’t found the right memory yet, and when we were in the gas station getting food, I had a thought.”

“Oh?” Alt-Dean leaned forward from the middle seat. “You have a memory we should try?”

“Well, maybe a memory  _ Cas _ should try. It involves the both of you so it fills the criteria, but maybe  _ his _ part of it will be different.”

They all waited, assorted eyebrows raised.

Sam looked around once more before he continued. “You remember when we were at the witch’s house, the Gas’n’Sip came up—that our Cas had worked there? But the other Cas,” he nodded to the doppelganger, “had not?”

Dean nodded in the driver's seat. “So we know the rift happened before that point,” he interrupted, catching up quickly to Sam’s thought.

“So,” Sam encouraged him, “what happened right before that point?”

Silence hung in the taco-scented air for a moment before Dean responded, extremely quiet.

“Ezekiel…Gadreel. Whatever. I…I kicked Cas out of the bunker because of Gadreel.” His eyes didn’t leave the road. 

The two angels shared a long look, then they both nodded.

“That makes sense,” Alt-Cas conceded. “With a lack of any other suggestions, we should try there next.”

Cas didn’t offer anything else, merely frowning and pulling his trench coat a little tighter around himself.

When the quiet became awkward, Dean coughed forcibly in the driver's seat. “Third and final thing, Sam?”

“Right.” Sam sat upright, finally discarding his cheap gas-station Ray-Bans into the glove compartment, before turning around to face the rest of the vehicle.

“The most important thing other than the memory, I suppose, is working out how we’re going to save Cas’s life when we get you back to your own world. Dean told me you’re worried about what will happen when the portal spits you out and well, I think I have a bad idea.”

 

***

 

“Hello, Morgan. This is Cas. Castiel…the angel?” Cas began quietly into the phone, like she could have forgotten him and the wads of sticky paper towel he’d left in her kitchen.

“This is not what ‘I never want to see or hear from you again’ means, Cas,” Morgan’s voice was curt. She definitely hadn’t forgotten the paper towels. 

Exhaling to calm himself, Cas forged ahead.

“I know—I’m so sorry, and so grateful,” Cas thanked her profusely. “The scrying stone is working just fine so far. We didn’t find the rift yet but we’re making progress.”

“Alright, if it’s working, why are we talking?”

Cas took a deep breath, lowering himself to sit on a bench at the rest stop the group had pulled into on I-84. 

“How much could I persuade you to care about the fate of the Cas from that other reality, Morgan?” he asked simply. “I understand why you’re angry at him—at both of us. Jimmy’s daughter, Claire, she had some problems with it at first too. But we are actually kind of friends now, I suppose. She finally understands that ultimately, it was Jimmy’s choice, and she’s seen some of the good that’s come of it,” Cas persuaded softly. “I was hoping that with a little help, you might eventually come to the same conclusion.”

“Good that’s come of it?” Morgan sounded skeptical at best.

“Well, I helped save the world a couple of times…” Cas offered hopefully, trying to sound optimistic. “Though I’ve caused problems too. I was hoping you’d give me a chance to be honest and tell you who I am before you decide whether or not to help us.”

From within the minivan pulled over a few yards away, the rest of team watched.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Alt-Dean asked quietly, watching as the angel sat characteristically still on the bench, talking at length as the minutes ticked by.

“I can’t see another option,” Sam confessed. “This is, technically, her magic—or at least her family’s magic. We have zero leverage to force her to help us. Using her connection to Jimmy to make her want to help might be our only chance.”

“Let’s hope Cas can pull this off, then,” Alt-Cas mused, his eyes resting slightly dismissively on Cas out the window.

“Well, all he has to do is tell the truth,” Dean defended quietly. “I think he can manage that. It’s all on her, really.”

They watched in silence for a few minutes as the angel on the bench explained, seeming like he was pausing to listen and answer questions periodically.

Dean looked back to where Alt-Cas had moved up from the back to sit with his lover, their hands entwined somewhat nervously between the seats.

“We’ll handle this, guys.” He gave the Alt-Cas a half smile. “We’re not going to send you back while there’s any risk at all that your version of Morgan will kill Cas. We’ll find out as much as we can to help you defeat her, too. Though if your Sam is as smart as ours,” he paused to grin at his floppy-haired brother, “I’m sure he’s made plenty of headway over there.”

“If he survived her escape at all,” Alt-Dean noted flatly.

“Yeah.” They fell quiet again, all looking over to check on the angel deep in conversation outside.

Clearing his throat, Dean tried for a lighter topic of conversation. “So do you think your Sam will be happy for you, when you get back?” He nodded at the couple, “that Cas said yes to marrying you, I mean.”

Alt-Cas grinned toothily, answering on his fiance’s behalf. “Sam is going to be  _ super _ excited,” he confirmed. “He’s supported us being together since day one, and it’s been five years. Pretty sure he’s been waiting for it.”

“So he was always on board with it?” Dean asked quietly, his eyes flicking out of the window to Cas; still talking.

“Oh yeah,” Alt-Dean confirmed casually. “Honestly not sure we’d be together without his interference. Or ‘help’, as he’d call it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Help?”

“I struggled a lot. To start with,” Alt-Dean confirmed as if that explained everything.

Sam and Dean looked at him blankly.

The doppelganger rolled his eyes. “I was in denial that I liked Cas for a long time. I tried to play it off as a passing thing or a mistake more than once. Sam would never have any of it though. He knows when I’m lying to myself.”

“Yeah,” Alt-Cas responded very dryly. “Those were fun times. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and explained to me what Dean was going through,” he looked over at Sam, “and how it wasn’t actually anything to do with me specifically, I probably would have just left,” he confessed. 

“Hey!” Alt-Dean complained.

“You were an ass, Dean.” Cas raised an eyebrow. “You remember that waitress in Georgia? You were in such a gay panic that you spent the evening hitting on her right in front of us and left Sam and me to walk three miles back to our motel.” 

Sam turned his head from the front seat, grinning slightly. “Oh, well, he does that here too on occasion even without dating Cas. Turns out he’s a bitch everywhere.”

“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Dean glared pissily at Sam.

“Besides, Cas was a jerk too,” Alt-Dean spoke up, smoothing over the moment. “He’d just take off for weeks at a time. Could have been dead for all I knew. Eventually, the concept that humans don’t have stuff like angel radio—just phones—seemed to sink in though.”

“Oh, our Cas sure does that too,” Dean responded sourly.

“Yeah,” Sam’s sarcasm couldn’t have been much thicker, “it’s almost like y’all are the same people.”

“Shut up, Sam,” the Deans responded in unison.

The battered sliding door of the minivan creaked horrifically as Cas pushed it open from the outside, relying on brute-force since the hydraulics were shot. 

Alt-Cas moved back to the rear, giving Cas room to get into the minivan.

“I’m back,” he pointed out somewhat redundantly as he ducked through the door, dragging it near-enough closed behind him as he slid into the folding seat.

Turning proudly to the rest of the group, he smiled. “She’s going to help us.”

“Good job, buddy!” Dean reached over to clap the angel’s knee with a grin. “Knew you could charm her into it.”

Cas shrugged slightly. “I was just honest. I explained to her what happened when she saw me after Jimmy died, killing those people. I told her how much I regret all of that. All of my other many, many mistakes too. She believes, I think, that I am really trying to make up for those things the best that I can.”

“That wasn’t you Cas, not really,” Dean comforted quietly. “But, anyway, she’s helping?”

He started the vehicle as they talked, moving back to the road. They had a couple of hours left to go until Cheyenne. 

“Yes,” Cas turned sideways in his seat, explaining. “The magic the Hallows used in previous generations all came from this Outer God she mentioned, Ngyr-Korath, the ultimate abomination. He’s also known as  _ The Dream Death _ and  _ The Mad God of the Void _ , among others.”

“Sounds friendly,” Sam noted.

“He haunted the spaces between stars before planets even existed. There’s actually a lot of interesting lore about him. They say he devours stars and appears as a blue-green mist that—“

“Cas,” Dean prodded gently. “Save it for bedtime. Stuff we can use?”

“Right. Well, Ngyr-Korath has a servant—his offspring, technically—by the name of Ymnar. Ymnar grants great power to whoever serves him. Morgan postulates that as Ngyr-Korath is an Outer God and thus relatively unconcerned with Earth beyond his casual desire for its destruction, the power of the Hallow family probably actually comes by way of Ymnar.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, following along.“How does that help us?”

“Ymnar can appear in our world. He shape-shifts, often picking a memory or event from his environment that might cause distress—fear strengthens him. The main thing though is that he can be summoned, can be bargained with,” Cas spoke slowly.

Alt-Cas spoke up, eyeing his twin flatly. “Bargain? With an Eldritch God? No, Castiel. That’s insane and incredibly dangerous. I’m simply not worth that.”

Cas held up a hand. “Morgan is going to send Sam an email with a detailed explanation and notes as to the magic involved, for us to study. She has ideas. Let’s just hear her out. In this case, she knows best,” he placated quietly.

Glaring hotly at his mirror image, Alt-Cas sighed. “Fine. I’ll see what she says, but I won’t put any of you, or this world, in danger. It’s not negotiable.”

Before the two angels could find something else to argue about, Sam interrupted calmly, “I’ll keep an eye out for her email. When we get it, we can revisit the whole plan. For now, let’s just talk about something else.”

“How about dinner,” Dean suggested with a grin. “Find me a place to eat close to the motel we’re headed to Sammy. It’s late and I need ribs.”


	15. Chapter 15

Jake’s Steaks was a sizeable, meat-filled haven only a handful of miles from the motel. Dean knew from the smell as the door swing that he was about to have a  _ very _ good time. 

Alt-Dean stepped in behind him with an appreciative hum, and the two Deans paused to share grin.

“Good job, Sammy,” Dean called over his shoulder as he strode to the table. “Decent beer on tap and enough beef to keep me chewin’ til Tuesday. Heaven.” 

Sam pulled up a chair to slot himself onto the end of their booth, a Cas and a Dean each to his left and his right. “Google tells me they have the best appetizers and ribs for miles,” he commented as he briefly fought with one of the Deans for leg space under the table. 

Once he’d settled in his chair, Sam very pointedly selected himself a salad from the descriptions while Dean, Cas, and their alternate selves all poured over the menu. Even this world’s Cas seemed moderately interested in the food. Sam smiled quietly to himself, remembering Dean’s subtle bacon-sharing at breakfast. He wasn’t sure what was going on with his brother, but anything that lowered his bacon intake was probably positive.

Rolling his eyes slightly as Dean ordered a whole platter of appetizers, Sam reached his arms up above his head in a stretch, producing all manner of ungodly cracking noises from his back; being cooped up in that minivan was killing him, whether Dean was starting to like the thing or not.

“I’m going to go take a walk outside for a second to stretch and check my email,” he announced to the table. “If Morgan said to Cas she’d email with more details as soon as she got home, we should have something by now.”

Alt-Cas nodded. “I’d like to see the email if it has arrived, as long as you don’t mind me coming with you.”

“Sure, buddy. Anyone else?”

Shrugging, Alt-Dean began to stand. “Sure, I’ll work up an appetite for a minute while they prepare to wow me with a full rack...” 

He glanced briefly at a passing waitress.

Alt-Cas coughed.

“... of ribs,” Alt-Dean added belatedly with a shit-eating grin.

Shaking his head, his fiance reached for his hand and dragged him out of the booth. “I don’t know why I put up with you, Dean Winchester.”

“Because I’m adorable?” 

“Definitely not that.” 

The two bickered good-naturedly all the way to the door, following behind Sam.

Left at the table with just Cas, Dean returned to a story he had been in the middle of before Sam’s departure; a vivid rendition of a steakhouse he’d been to with Bobby and Rufus once when they were on the road, where all of their fake credit cards had been declined and they’d had to climb out of the bathroom window.

“Rufus gave Bobby and me a leg-up but then he was stuck on the other side,” Dean wheezed in amusement, remembering the look on his face. “Bobby was all for leaving him there, but he had all the motel keys in his back pocket...”

Cas’s face split into a gummy grin as he laughed along. “The life of a hunter,” he mused. “Rarely dull.”

“That’s true, if you ignore all the research and endless scouring for cases,” Dean admitted.

They were sat close together on the same side of the booth, already a beer and a half into a good meal. Dean picked up his glass and dodged his elbow out of the way as their young, redheaded waitress came back with a platter of appetizers. Dean smiled politely at her, but his attention turned straight back to Cas as she departed.

“You’re going to eat all that?” Cas questioned, eyeing the various breaded and fried morsels on the platter.

“Of course not,” Dean replied with a sly grin. “You’re going to help me.”

Cas blinked. “Me?”

“Yup. I won’t be satisfied until you’ve eaten at least one of every kind.” He grinned. When Cas didn’t immediately respond, his smile softened a little. “Just seemed like maybe you were interested in trying out some of these more human-like traits the other-you has going on. Figured I’d, uh, offer support… and also onion rings.”

“Thank you,” Cas muttered, looking surprisingly touched and dropping his gaze down to the plate. He seemed overwhelmed, eyeing all the different foods.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at him again. “Here, Cas. Lemme help you out.”

Wiping his own fingers on a napkin to clean them, Dean reached for a breaded mozzarella stick. Eyeing the size, he reconsidered and broke a small piece off, dipping it in the provided marinara sauce and holding it out towards Cas’s mouth. “Open up.”

Despite the slightly suspicious look in his eye, Cas obeyed.

Dean watched the angel carefully as he gently popped the morsel into his mouth. He even had a napkin prepared in his hand in case Cas did something ridiculous like spit it out. What he wasn’t prepared for was the little jolt of electricity that the ghosting touch of Cas’s lip to his finger caused. 

From his sudden blink, Cas felt it too.  _ Static, _ Dean thought briefly.  _ Obviously. What else would it be? _ He couldn’t help but smile as the angel began to chew—he’d never seen anyone more mistrustful of cheese. 

“That was…complex,” Cas eventually replied after swallowing. “Not repugnant, but close.”

Dean laughed, his thigh pressing against the angel’s under the table as he reached over to prepare his next mouthful with care. “Okay, so maybe something simpler? Here—onion rings.” 

Despite his apprehension at the food, Cas’s mouth was open and ready.

 

***

 

Sam led the way as he and the couple from the other world stepped back into Jake’s Steaks, preparing to brief Dean and Cas on the contents of Morgan’s email. When his gaze settled on their table, he stopped short right inside the restaurant door, holding his arms out to stop his companions.

“Guys… look,” he hissed quietly. 

Dean and Cas sat close, laughter drifting between them at something the angel had said. They were oblivious to the other patrons, wrapped up in each other; Dean carefully depositing what looked to be a knot of garlic bread into the angel’s mouth by hand. The look of sheer horror on his face caused Dean to hoot loudly with laughter, his head tilting forward to rest on the Cas's shoulder for just the very briefest of seconds.

Sam looked sideways at Alt-Dean, who stood directly beside him. Closing his mouth, which had been hanging slightly open, his not-quite-brother returned his look. 

“We should just… go,” Sam whispered.

“We shouldn’t interfere,” Alt-Cas noted uncertainly from just behind Sam to his left. He whispered too, however.

“It’s not interfering if we leave,” Sam offered, slightly uncertain. “Just kind of… giving them an opening, I suppose?”

The three seemed to be in quiet agreement. Deciding that the contents of the email could wait until back at the motel, they slipped back out to the foyer to argue about how long it was appropriate to wait before returning.

 

***

 

It was several hours later by the time the team assembled around the table in the doppelganger’s double room at the motel. The Deans were a little boisterous from drink—the one from this world having had a great time at dinner getting through several beers with Cas; the one from the other universe getting through almost the same amount while they sat at the bar inconspicuously to wait until Dean noticed they were missing. 

“So, Morgan definitely—” Sam paused, raising his eyebrow and pointedly waiting until both Deans had all four of their chair-legs on the ground, “—had something very interesting to say in her email.”

Looking over at the pair of Castiels and taking what attention he could get, Sam continued.

“It seems that through her meeting with us and her chats with Cas,” Sam smiled over at him, “Morgan has decided that the magical-life is really not for her. She’s kind of freaked out at the things it seems her alternate-self is capable of. Because, of course, that means that technically she is capable of them too.” 

“Told you I should have shot her,” Dean mumbled to Alt-Dean.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam sighed in exasperation. “She doesn’t want that stuff. Her little revenge kick is long gone, in this world. We lucked out in this timeline, she wasn’t lost to the source of her power. But she is afraid of the potential. Her idea is to summon Ymnar and offer her power as a bargaining chip. She will ask him to strip her of her innate magic and return it to the void in exchange for you two,” he looked at Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas, “having immunity to the magic in your world.” 

Alt-Dean leaned forward onto the table, serious for a moment. “She would do that? For us?”

“Well, it’s as much to calm her own fears as anything,” Sam conceded. “And to sort-of apologize to our Cas for spending a year stalking him and failing to kill him, I guess.” 

Cas smiled awkwardly but didn’t offer any thoughts.

“Would this Ymnar, the offspring of this Outer God, even be interested in a deal like that? Would he want her power back?” Alt-Cas questioned.

“I mean, we don’t know. But it’s likely. Power in the universe is finite; hers is both ancient and currently unused. It's a waste, cosmically speaking.”

“So what if we summon this tentacle-y Eldritch bastard,” Dean commented flatly, “and he decides it’s more rewarding to turn us into the final part of  _ 100 Girls and 100 Octopuses.” _

Sam’s response is quiet. “Right. What then? Also, gross, Dean.”

Cas exhaled slowly. “Perhaps myself and my other self can stay here and research protection options,” he offered. “It’s already late. The humans should sleep. In the morning, we should try the scrying stone again.”

With few options to argue, Sam and Dean trailed back to their room.

 

***

 

Dean wandered out of the bathroom, flossing.

“Eww, Dean. Can’t you finish that in the other room? That’s one of the grosser things I’ve seen you do,” Sam complained from his spot perched on the end of his bed, stuffing his overshirt and jeans into his duffel.

“Seriously?” Dean muttered around the floss. “This? This is one of the grosser things you’ve seen me do?”

“Actually, forget that. Floss away.” Sam rolled his eyes, throwing the bag over onto the empty chair that Cas would usually have occupied.

Dean followed the bag with his eyes. “It’s actually a little weird, Cas not being here,” he pointed out. “Staying in the other room to research and all. I guess I got used to him being around all the time.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

After a minute, he reached up and ran his hands through his hair, a sign of stress in Sam if ever there was one. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dropping the dirty floss into the trash can under the table, Dean strolled in the direction of the light, but paused as Sam addressed him.

“Look, I just wanted to say,” Sam seemed to avoid looking at Dean, staring at the carpet. “I’m not blind, okay. If there was ever anything...” he raised his hands in a slightly exaggerated shrug, “I dunno. If you ever wanted to talk about things, stuff that having this doppelganger Dean and Cas around has brought up for you...I just want you to know that it's cool, Dean. I’d be one hundred percent supportive of anything you were going through or wanted to explore, I hope you know that. I’d listen, if you just needed to—”

“So, do you want me to get you some Midol along with that heat pad, Sammy?” Dean interrupted sarcastically. “Maybe some warm tea, we can pop a Tom Hiddleston movie on and paint our toenails, talk about hair products.”

Sam shook his head, laying down and pulling up the blankets with a snort. “You are such a jerk, Dean.”

The light turned off and Dean shuffled across the unfamiliar room to get into bed. 

A long time passed in the darkness before Dean whispered to Sam, “Thanks.” 

Saying nothing, Sam smiled as he rolled over to sleep. 

Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling.


	16. Chapter 16

It was the early hours of the morning by the time Cas stepped into the motel room where Sam and Dean slept. He padded quietly across the carpet towards his habitual chair, trying not to wake any Winchesters. He gave a cursory check around the room, letting his angelic senses drift out. He heard the brothers’ breaths and heartbeats, located the mouse scurrying between the walls and counted the throng of cockroaches in the drain outside. He could tell even from such a minor inspection that Dean was awake.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked very quietly, shrugging off his trench coat and laying the beige garment across the back of the chair.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured quietly, so as not to wake Sam. He rolled onto his side, clicking on the dull lamp on the nightstand and moving his body over to create a wide space on the mattress. Patting on it, he smiled tiredly. “Come and sit a minute?”

Tilting his head curiously, Cas stepped up to the bed and lowered himself silently to perch on the edge of the ugly green blanket.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothing, really, just lots to think about,” he softly responded.

“Well,” Cas paused to turn his body, angling towards Dean and bending one leg up onto the mattress for balance. “The other Cas and I think we have found some suitable protections that could greatly increase the safety of our attempted Eldritch summoning—we can technically speak to him in a dream, rather than summoning him directly. I emailed all the details across to Morgan on Sam’s laptop.  I’ll check for her feedback before we start scrying in the morning.”

“That sounds good—” Dean paused as Sam stirred. Luckily both he and Cas were used to speaking in a low register and Sam dozed immediately back off. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about, actually. Though obviously, that’s important,” he hurriedly added.

“What was keeping you awake, Dean?”

The genuine concern in Cas’s voice made Dean smile awkwardly.

“I was wondering what you were going to say last night, when we were in that other motel before Sam interrupted.”

Dean’s nervousness came out in a series of slight picking motions at the thick motel blanket.

“Oh,” Cas responded, his gaze cast down to his own hands, which he primly folded into his lap. “That ‘us’ discussion you wanted to have? I don’t want to ruin a good evening, Dean,”

“You won’t ruin anything Cas,” Dean sighed in exasperation. “I just think it’s better out in the open, so we can move past this Doppelganger mess or… or whatever.”

Sam snored but stayed still.

Cas was quiet for a minute. Uncharacteristically fidgety, he worried at his lower lip with his teeth before he nodded. With a whispered version of his usual bluntness, and his eyes locked on his hands, he replied, “What I was going to say was that… I understand this is confusing for you. The problem, for me, is that it’s _not_ confusing for me, Dean. I am well aware of what my feelings towards you are, and I have been for a long time.”  

Cas’s tone was as matter-of-fact as it always was, but his inability to meet Dean’s gaze in the dim light revealed his nervousness. “I don’t want this to change anything, not really. I still want us to be friends, Dean. I think it would hurt more than anything if we lost that.”

Cas’s eyes finally lifted briefly to meet Dean’s stare. He blinked once, his endless blue eyes glinting briefly in the dim light, before they dropped back to his hands on his lap.

His continued quietly, “I don’t want anything from you if you’re unsure, Dean. Because the risk of ruining our friendship is too high. I’ve been in love with you for years, Dean. I need you to go into this knowing that. I need you to be clear and be serious about this, about me, Dean. Because I am serious about _you_. So...”

Dean sat perfectly still, wordless.

Cas exhaled as if he was letting out a breath he’d held for years.

“Take your time, Dean. I’m good at waiting. I don't expect anything and I won’t ever bring it up again if you don’t want me to. Just… please take the time to be clear. Don’t play games with me—”

“Cas, I would never do that,” Dean couldn’t help but interrupt, frowning at the implication. “I should be offended you even said that. But, I understand. It doesn’t matter what happens from here, I’d never do that to you.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Dean was looking at the motel blanket as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Cas sat still, like always, his attention on some indeterminable point in the air in front of him, not really looking at anything. Dean began to stifle yawns, his shoulders sagging. He smiled across at Cas before he shuffled across the bed to the nightstand.

As Dean began reaching for the light, Cas spoke again, much more softly.

“I’m sorry for being mad at you last night, Dean. I was jealous, I think. I was also scared, I suppose, that you would think differently of me now that you know. Thank you for listening.” Cas shifted, a slightly uneasy smile picking up one corner of his lip.

Dean turned off the lamp and wiggled down under the blanket. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he whispered honestly.

After a beat, Dean shifted in the darkness to look back at Cas. “Will you stay here, tonight? Like yesterday?”

“If you want me to,” Cas nodded, shifting over into the same position he had spent the previous night in; his back against the headboard of the motel bed, legs stretched out next to Dean’s sleepy form.

Dean nodded tiredly. He reached out a hand to grasp at the angel’s wrist—a comfort, nothing more, and closed his eyes.

It was a long time before Dean fell asleep. The rhythm of the words that made up his best friend’s truth ran over and over and over through his mind: _I’ve been in love with you for years, Dean._

 _I need to work this out,_ Dean panicked in lieu of sleep. _I have to be sure._

 

***

 

Dean was sprawled awkwardly on his front in the bed when he awoke, blanket tangled around his legs, one arm thrown wildly across Cas’s thighs and the other hanging slightly off the edge of the mattress. He sleepily registered that, for whatever reason, Cas had one hand softly resting on his head. The angel's fingers curled slightly into his hair. When Dean looked up, Cas’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted back against the wall, his face upturned away from him.

“Hey Cas,” Dean mumbled sleepily, trying to decide if the world was worth him raising his head any further from the pillow.

“Good morning.” Cas moved his fingers, ruffling Dean’s hair slightly in a casual almost-scratching motion before he removed his hand. “You were having bad dreams,” he offered in explanation.

 _Yup._ Dean was well aware of that, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell Cas what they consisted of.

Pushing up off the mattress, Dean cleared his throat. “Coffee?” He croaked roughly, by way of suggestion that they go get some.

Silently, Cas pointed to the nightstand where a sealed paper cup was waiting.

“Ohhhh,” Taking a huge, lukewarm gulp, Dean made a pleased noise. “You are fantastic.”

He noticed the corner of Cas’s mouth turn up into a pleased smile at that, before he sat forward, pulling away from the wall. “Pass it here Dean. You slept late, I’ll warm it back up.”

He passed the cup to Cas. Dean watched with a sleepy, detached curiosity as the angel closed his hands around the cup for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, he passed it back to Dean, piping hot.

“Woah. That’s neat.” Dean grinned slightly after his first gulp. “Everybody needs an angel, I swear.”

With a slightly exaggerated dismissive wave of his hand, Cas responded haughtily, “I’ve said that for years.”

Wrapping both hands around his cup, Dean looked over the rim of the cup at Cas, using the top to hide the intensity of his smile. “I like it when you’re playful, when you joke. It’s still kind of new.”

“It’s getting easier,” Cas confessed. “Metatron’s cultural reference dump helped, but mostly it’s just time and being near you and Sam. I’m learning.”

“Well, good job, buddy.”

Gulping down the last drops of bitter nectar despite its temperature, Dean deposited the cup back onto the nightstand. Shuffling across the mattress, he sat next to Cas in a mirror of his position, butt up on the pillow with his legs stretched out, leaning back against the wall. He turned his head to the side, carefully regarding the angel. “You know we like you anyway Cas, right? I mean, I tease you all the time when something shoots over your head but that’s just you. It’s who you are.” He grinned.

“I know Dean,” Cas confirmed. “But I’ve been down here so long now, honestly I just want to fit in better. Out there.” He gestured to the window.

Dean nodded. “I get it.”

They sat in silence for a minute, until Dean stretched his arms overhead. “Alright then. Let’s wake up the giant over there so we can get some more scrying in before we head home.”

Reaching for the empty coffee cup on the nightstand, he threw it at his brother in the other bed. “Sammy! Rise and shine!”

 

***

 

The group assembled around the table in the doppelganger’s slightly larger double room.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Alt-Dean declared, tossing the empty cup from his second coffee of the day into the trash.

Nodding, Alt-Cas placed the mirror-like scrying stone in the middle of the table.

“Maybe Dean should show us his memory to start off,” he indicated to Dean, “then Castiel can show us how he saw it. Once you’re done, Dean and I can show you ours?”

They seemed to be in agreement, so Dean leaned forward. He found himself slightly apprehensive, staring at the stone for a moment before he built up the courage to wrap his fingers around the edge.

“ _Orr’euh’ee ot soth, mgah’n’ghft ya mgleth ot lloig_!” The alien-sounding words spilled from Cas’s tongue and the vision began.

 

> _Sam stands in front of Dean, clear as day, but his face is somehow wrong. Too serious, his jaw too set, his eyes too firm._
> 
> _“If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave,” the angel possessing Sam spoke firmly, his voice low and calm._
> 
> _“Oh, no, you can’t do that. Sam’s not well enough. If you leave his body…” Dean’s response is troubled, but the angel makes no real change to the serious expression that sits flatly on his borrowed face._
> 
> _“I know. I am sorry.” His intonation is flat, but does seem to indicate that just perhaps he really is._
> 
> _The scene shown by the memory turns as Dean begins to walk, through the doorway and into the library. He pauses for a moment, looking at the back of a messy, dark-haired man occupying one of the chairs at the large table. After a few seconds Dean steps forward and Cas’s face comes into view; in comfortable-looking street clothes, happily eating a burrito._
> 
> _“Epic food. I can’t get enough,” the newly-human angel, stubble on his face, mumbles to Dean contentedly._
> 
> _“Cas, uh, can we talk?” Dean’s voice is firm, though there is a soft note of regret already tinged at the edge._
> 
> _Cas reaches to pull out a chair for him, still chewing. “Dean, you know I always appreciate your talks, our time together.”_
> 
> _Dean looks at the chair, but instead chooses to lean onto the table, his discomfort clear. “Listen, buddy. Um… you can’t stay.”_
> 
> _Cas just looks at him. Burrito-chewing forgotten, his eyes confused as the hurt plays out all across his face with a very human clarity. He says nothing, his pained expression enough._
> 
> _Without any comfort or clarification given, the view the scrying stone gives swings around again as Dean swiftly stands from his makeshift seat on the table, beating a hasty exit._

No one said anything as the ripple passed back across the black, smooth stone.

The doppelganger couple were looking at each other, clearly uncomfortable, their mouths slightly open in silent communication.  Sam had a deep, angry frown creasing his brow—though it softened measurably when he looked up to see Dean’s expression, quiet but full of regret.

“Cas—” Dean began. The angel gave him no time to respond. He didn’t look up, giving no one the chance to judge his expression, before pulling the stone to himself and repeating the incantation.

The ripple came swiftly.

 

> _The scene tilted down, looking at a pair of strong hands wrapped around a burrito. A soft sound of pleasure drifted through the stone, an air of relief and contentment._
> 
> _To the left of the scene, Dean emerged._
> 
> _“Epic food. I can’t get enough,” Cas’s voice came happily._
> 
> _“Cas, uh, can we talk?” Dean’s voice drew Cas’s attention upwards, all his focus now solely on the handsome hunter in front of him._
> 
> _Reaching forward with one hand to pull out the chair, Cas responds earnestly. “Dean, you know I always appreciate your talks, our time together.”_
> 
> _“Listen, buddy. Um… you can’t stay.” When the response comes, it seems to take up the whole of Cas's vision._
> 
> _His sight zones in Dean, resting on the hunter’s green eyes. The hand in front of him, still holding part of his microwaved Mexican food, freezes._
> 
> _The view in the scrying stone follows Dean’s back out of the room, Cas’s eyes unable to tear away until he had exited completely._
> 
> _The scene falls down then, down to the burrito in hand. For a long moment, that’s all it consists of, until the edge of the stone begins to cloud and fuzz with wetness._
> 
> _The human Cas reaches a hand up, to rub his face it seems, and the fingers come away wet. The scene lurches as with a stumble Cas seeks to quickly leave the room._
> 
> _Pitched breathing increases, the burrito in hand forgotten as he grabs his few things, the hitched breath of sorrow clear by the time the bunker door is reached._
> 
> _Not wanting to say goodbye or let anyone see his tears, it seems, Cas pauses for just a second before exiting—the burrito he still held dropped almost desolately into a trash can, unfinished, before his clouded vision ducked out of the bunker into the afternoon light._

As the ripple folded itself back across the dark surface of the scrying stone, Dean couldn’t help but look up to see the expressions of his companions, despite the shame-filled, heavy lump in his stomach.

Both of the angels were very quiet. Dean observed Alt-Cas looking at his counterpart steadily. Instead of the usual frustration and derision, he saw something akin to sympathy in Alt-Cas’s eyes. He seemed sad, and his look to Cas carried a much softer pity than had been there before.

Alt-Cas cleared his throat. “That’s not the same for us. Very different, actually. The rift must be before that. We should just…” he trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

This world’s Cas—his Cas, as Dean thought of him—looked haunted. His expression was carefully neutral but Dean saw in his eyes the same detached look of surprise and sorrow that he’d seen before, when the event occurred. Although, he realized with a lurch, he hadn’t paid near so much attention to it then.

 _I fucked everything up over and over again,_ Dean thought dully.

On closer examination, Cas’s expression appeared to be crumbling into distress. Painfully aware of everyone watching, but finding himself unable to care, Dean rose from his chair and began to move around the table to Cas’s seat. His approach seemed to make things worse, if anything.

 

***

 

Cas could hear his vessel’s blood roaring in his ears.

 _I’m okay,_ he thought to himself. _It was years ago. I’m okay._ He could see the look on Alt-Cas’ face. It was worse than usual, the irritated frustration and pity that he saw there had morphed into something like genuine compassion. Somehow, he thought the frustration and pity were preferable.

Dean began to stand and move towards him. Cas struggled to name the emotion that the human was displaying; he could peel back the layer upon layer of guilt that shrouded the older Winchester’s face, but beneath that was something that made Cas’s chest ache. He couldn’t stand it.

 _I’m not okay._ A strange sense of panic rose in his chest. _I’m not okay._

Before he could do something irreparable like break down and cry in front of his friends, Castiel found his feet suddenly bracing and swiftly carrying him out of the room.

“I think I left my coat in the car,” he choked quickly.

Sam and the alternate universe couple looked at each other uncomfortably as the door slammed behind him. The trench coat that was his poor excuse for bailing billowed around the angel as he crossed the threshold, making a sad liar of him without a word.

He hurried away from the cheap, dank motel as fast as his feet could carry him. This trip had already been more awkward and embarrassing than anything he’d ever experienced on Earth. He at least wanted to be alone for this.

Smelling grass and trees in the distance, Cas turned away from the highway and continued walking, seeking some peace.

 

***

 

The motel room was eerily silent as Cas departed, a heaviness in the air that no one was comfortable with.

Dean stood staring at his feet.

“Dean?” Sam asked quietly, turning his chair to reach a hand over to his brother, placing it flat between his shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“I messed up, Sammy.” His voice was hollow.

“It was a long time ago,” Sam comforted. “He knows that, and you apologized after, right?”

“Yeah. Some apology that was. One of my famous I’m-sorry-but-I-did-it-anyway apologies.” Dean’s lips pursed, sour. “I didn’t know how much he hurt, how he felt, at the time. But that’s not an excuse for treating him like that.”

“So, go and fix it, Dean,” Sam responded firmly, frowning and for just a moment looking like the older brother. “Maybe if something good comes out of this whole alternate-world mess, it can be that you and Cas can fix some of this baggage. Go.”

Dean found he didn’t need any further encouragement, not even looking back to the table where the rest of the group sat.

Sam, Alt-Dean, and Alt-Cas all exchanged tiny, hopeful smiles as he departed.

The air outside was a little chill as Dean moved into the parking lot, wondering where Cas had gone.

Dean knew that Cas wanted space, he wouldn’t have left otherwise, but Dean needed to talk to him. There were things Cas deserved to hear.

Looking around the empty lot, Dean took a moment to be briefly grateful that at least Cas couldn’t flap away and fly to the other side of the world when he was pissed, like he used to. It was probably the only minor positive to his broken wings.

Dean went to their room in the motel, but the door was locked and Dean realized Sam had the key, anyway.

The minivan was empty.

He looked around the parking lot futilely, before noticing the beginning of a scrubby, dirt walking-trail that began about fifty yards further up the street from the motel. It was signed with some historic information about the area, but Dean paid it no heed as he strode past.

Spotting the tan trench coat ahead, Dean hurried on. Cas leaned onto a fence at the edge of a slightly wooded copse, a steep field disappearing into the distance behind his outline. His head hung down, his dark hair ruffled wildly by the wind.

“Cas.” Dean approached quietly, knowing that it was almost impossible to sneak up on the angel but wanting to give him time to compose himself, should he want it.

“Could I, uh, just get a minute?” Cas requested, not looking up. “If you don’t mind, Dean. I think I’d rather be alone.”

Dean faltered. He didn’t want to ignore Cas’s wishes, but the angel deserved a real apology.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to Cas and lightly placed a hand across his back, resting on the far shoulder blade as he stood next to him. Not quite a comforting hug, but the opportunity there if Cas decided to take it.

“Cas.” Dean felt his voice wobble. This was harder than it should be. “I’m so sorry.”

“You already apologized, Dean. When Crowley was forcing out Gadreel, remember?” A bitter note suffused Cas’s voice, but he seemed more resigned than angry.

“Yeah,” Dean commented with a dry, humorless laugh. “I apologized for what I thought I had to do, I apologized for lying. I didn’t apologize for smashing your heart to pieces like a piñata. Saying I didn’t know isn’t an excuse. You don’t treat the people you care about like I did.”

To his slight surprise—but immense relief—Cas didn’t argue.

“No Dean, you don’t. You were my friend, and much more important than lying to me, you let me down. You threw me out and abandoned me at the point when I needed you _most.”_

Dean didn’t blame him for sounding angry. As Cas rounded on him, releasing his frustration (perhaps _finally_ releasing his frustration), he stood and took it without looking away.

“I was homeless. I was hungry. There were things about being human that I had never known, never even considered. People took advantage of that. I was scared _,_ Dean!” Cas stared straight back at him, and Dean felt like he was getting smaller with every passing second.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Cas continued. “I felt so much relief when I got to the bunker. I felt like maybe everything was going to be okay. When I saw you again, Dean—that was the first time I really got to experience all these feelings as a human. I was overwhelmed and lost and you _kicked me out,_ Dean.” Cas paused, pressing his lips together for a moment, angrily. “You could have told me the truth, but you didn’t. My main memory of you, from that period of being human, is just a feeling of being hurt and unwanted.”

Cas exhaled slowly, his rant fizzling out. When he added his final point, it was quiet, with much more care. “But I forgive you, Dean. I do understand. You did it for your brother. Maybe you didn’t go about it in the right way, but your intention wasn’t to hurt me.”

Now that Cas was finished, Dean was the one concerned he was going to cry. He struggled to keep his gaze on Cas’s face.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Cas. Don’t deserve you. Never have.” Blinking, he looked away, reaching roughly across to pull the angel in for a crushing, almost desperate hug. “Forgiving me doesn’t mean it goes away or doesn’t hurt, I get that now.”

Cas was rigid in his arms for a good moment, slowly relaxing by degrees before he eventually began to reciprocate the hug. After a good minute, his head came down to Dean’s shoulder, resting and breathing into Dean’s plaid over shirt.

“It’s okay,” Cas murmured into the fabric.

Dean’s hands seemed to have a life of their own, sliding up Cas’s back to his shoulders, the fingers tangling slightly in the thick, wild hair at the top of his neck.

“It’s not okay. But I want to try and make it okay, Cas.” Dean’s voice was thick in the fabric collar of the angel’s coat.

Cas stiffened slightly as Dean’s fingers curled into his hair but he didn’t protest. “You don’t have to do anything, Dean. It’s long over.”

Dean’s heart seemed to be trying to fight its way out of his mouth, even though he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let it. It didn’t matter if he was or not, this was the time.

“Please, Cas.” The words came out more plaintive and desperate than Dean intended.

Raising his head just a fraction, he found himself cheek to cheek with the angel, their stubble rubbing each against the other. Cas’s spine seemed to be getting stiffer by the moment.

“We’ve hurt and betrayed each other over and over again,” Dean practically whispered. “Maybe I don’t deserve your forgiveness for some things, maybe you don’t deserve mine for others. But choosing each other regardless has kinda always been our thing,” he smiled hesitantly.

The anxiety and uncertainty that had churned in Dean’s stomach for days seemed to come to a head as his lips betrayed him.

“Let me choose you,” he finished, before his disloyal lips pressed a tiny, soft kiss to Cas’s cheek near his ear.

If there had been any doubt at Cas’s shock, it became clear as he totally froze.

Finding no actual resistance among the lack of reciprocation, Dean’s nose dragged minutely through the stubble and pressed another kiss to the side of Cas’s face, moving excruciatingly closer to his lips, peck by peck. Another then, just an inch away, and then another. His fingers tightened in the waves of dark hair at the back of the angel’s neck as his nervous kisses found the corner of Cas’s mouth.

Cas made a tiny choking noise. “Dean, please…” his hands crushed into Dean’s shirt, pulling him in, telling a different tale to his overwhelmed words. “Stop, Dean—I can’t.”

His face still pressed up close, Dean’s lips brushed against the angel’s as he spoke, not even a hair's breadth between them. “Do you really want me to stop? Just tell me and I will. I’m—I’m trying to be pretty obvious here, Cas.”

Cas’s lips were dry, but pillowy and achingly soft, so close and yet not quite his.

Dean rested his forehead against Cas’s for a moment, his eyes squeezing shut in fear as he waited.

The noise Cas let out was more of a whimper than a word, a sound of joyous defeat.

The hands that had been knotted in Dean’s shirt released for a moment to spread flat at his back, pulling their bodies together into one as Cas tilted his head into him. He pressed his lips slowly back against Dean’s. The kiss was soft, overly cautious and enchanting.

As they relaxed into each other, lips exploring, on a dusty old walking trail in Wyoming, Dean’s mind exploded with one wild, overwhelming thought: _Holy shit. I’m kissing Cas._

Their mouths slid together in a clumsy, nervous pattern, but there was nothing about it that wasn't perfect, as evidenced by the soft sounds that they each emitted. They took their time, shy grins and small laughs peppering the meeting of their lips as they came back together, over and over, just reveling in being able to.

“You taste fantastic,” Dean mumbled a minute later, through a dazed, slightly disbelieving grin.

He felt Cas’s laugh shudder against his chest. “Uh, thank you?”

Dean looked down a fraction to see Cas’s endless blue eyes looking back at him and he was caught by them for a moment. “Well, it’s true,” he grumbled shyly, releasing Cas and turning almost reluctantly back towards the motel.

He took a step, unsure, before somewhat awkwardly reaching to grab the angel’s hand. “Come on. We should get moving back to Kansas.”

“Dean…” Cas didn’t move, his hand stretching out ahead of him as Dean stepped on down the path.

Pulled to a halt, Dean looked back and smiled nervously. “What, Cas?”

“You just kissed me, Dean.” Cas’s brow raised pointedly.

“I guess so.”

“And now you’re holding my hand,” Cas pointed out, raising it slightly, their fingers still grasped.

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat. “What’s your point?”

“Are we going to…talk about any of this?” Cas’s expression was pointed but also, Dean thought, ever so slightly amused.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean sighed. “No chick flick moments, okay? I made my choice, but you need to give me time too.”

The angel studied him, gauging Dean’s expression. After a moment he smiled, his face lit softly in a way that told Dean that without a doubt, Cas got it.

“Alright, Dean. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.” Cas reached forward and scooped his hand behind Dean’s neck, pulling him back for one last cautious kiss.

Grinning, they began to dawdle back towards the motel.

 

***

 

“Can you see, Cas?” Sam asked Alt-Cas, digging an elbow into his side.

“I could see better if you stopped crowding me, Sam,” he snapped in return.

The two men were balanced precariously on top of the toilet bowl in the tiny motel bathroom. The seat was already broken and Sam’s huge left foot wasn’t doing much to help it. His other foot was braced against the sink as the two tried to peer out of the tiny skylight window in the dark, damp little room.

“They’re moving!” Sam exclaimed loudly.

Alt-Dean’s voice came out of the hallway, where he stood peering through the spy-hole in the motel door. “Yeah, they’re heading back this way. I think they’re holding hands!”

With a crash, a little cussing and some splashing, Sam and Alt-Cas emerged from the bathroom. “Quick!” Sam hustled towards the bedroom, attempting to flick water from his boot. “Look casual guys, Dean will flip his shit if he thinks we were spying on him.”

“But we were,” Alt-Cas pointed out dryly.

“No need to advertise it,” Alt-Dean hissed at him.

They all squashed quickly onto the end of one of the beds, sitting somewhat awkwardly in a line. Sam cringed as he noticed that he had left half a set of wet footprints on the brown carpet.

The door opened and Dean stepped inside, followed by Cas. Dean paused in the short hallway to the sleeping area, eyeing the three men sat primly on the edge of the bed. He raised an eyebrow at their odd faux-casual positioning.

“Everything alright, guys?”

“Yup! Yes. Yes, perfect.” Sam grinned over at him, attempting to nonchalantly balance his boot on his other knee, crossing his legs and almost knocking Alt-Dean off the bed next to him.

Alt-Cas, on the other side of Sam, rolled his eyes.

“Everything alright…for you?” Sam asked cautiously, looking between the newly arrived Dean and Cas who stood, perplexed, in the hallway.

“Yes...” Dean answered, confused.

“Great, that’s great,” Alt-Dean responded with an eager nod.

They all looked at one another for a long moment.

“Well, we were going to take the bags to the car,” Dean said very slowly, gesturing behind him to the still open motel door. “So…we’ll go…and do that…”

He reached to grab the top couple of bags from the little pile of duffels near the doorway, looking baffled and uneasy.

When the door closed behind him, Sam sighed with relief. Immediately, Alt-Dean elbowed him hard in the stomach.

“I told you!”

“Alright, alright,” Sam replied sourly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Twenty bucks, wasn’t it?”

“A hundred, because they kissed.”

“Oh, come on, how do you know that?” Sam whined, digging around to gather the notes.

Alt-Dean raised a brow and looked at him very pointedly before swiping the dollar bills from his fingers.


	17. Chapter 17

The ride to Kansas was uneventful, aside from a minor incident involving Sam’s reaction to his gas-station lunch. After a ten minute delay to pull over and open all the doors, they were back on their way and the rest of the journey was calm.

Everyone was quiet, thinking their way through the work they had to do back at the bunker. Both of the Castiels mostly stared out of the window, though Dean suspected they were occupied with different things.

Pulling into the airport parking lot, the group all got out of the battered vehicle and stretched. 

Sam, holding the minivan keys, looked over at Dean and indicated toward the minivan. “So, what about this tank? Are we taking her back or ditching her here?”

Dean reached over and slapped her side with a grin. “She’s been good to us, and who knows when we could use another vehicle. Maybe you guys can drive her back and I’ll take Baby home?” 

Sam nodded, stepping away to hit up a nearby vending machine before herding the doppelganger couple back into the car.

“Cas?” Dean walked around to the trunk-end of the minivan where Cas stood, watching airplanes take off overhead. “Do you want to ride back with me?”

The angel tilted his head. “I’d rather ride than walk, yes.”

Dean chuckled. He rubbed at the back of his head, looking shyly across at Cas as he clarified, “I meant, Sam and the doppelgangers are going to drive the van back to the bunker. I was going to drive Baby home, but maybe… you’d like to ride with me? Just the two of us?”

“Oh.” Cas blinked. “I see. Of course, Dean.” He smiled lopsidedly.

Dean noted from the pleased look on Cas’s face that, no matter what he’d once thought of his comprehension skills, the angel understood plenty.

Dean and Cas slipped into the front of the Impala as the alternate universe versions of themselves, accompanied by Sam, pulled out of the parking lot ahead of them.

“I missed you,” Dean purred as he snapped his belt shut.

With a smirk, Cas eyed him sideways. “You’re going to have to start clarifying if you’re talking to me or the car, Dean.”

“The car,” Dean retorted quickly, with narrowed eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile. A minute passed as he pulled out onto the highway. “That’s actually something I want to talk about though, Cas. Missing you.”

Cas turned slightly in his seat to look at Dean. “Missing me? I’m right here. I don’t understand, Dean.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sorry. Being honest about this stuff is going to take a while to get used to, buddy. Talking isn’t my strong point,” he confessed.

“I’m aware,” Cas offered, waiting.

“I just meant that I don’t want to miss you as much as I have in the past, Cas. If we’re going to do this...” 

One hand resting comfortably on the wheel as the Impala cruised along, Dean reached for Cas’s hand with his spare one, twining their fingers together with an air of nervousness before he continued. 

“...I need to know that you’re going to stay.”

“Stay?” Cas echoed. “I’m sorry Dean, I’m not following.”

“You keep leaving, Cas. You’ll disappear off from the bunker for weeks on end, you run off on missions to find angels or save heaven, and I get that. You’re pretty much a hunter now too, even if we have different cases and priorities sometimes.”

Cas listened to Dean patiently, nodding.

“But,” Dean carried on, “every time you leave like that, I have to sit in Kansas and worry about you, Cas. I don’t need you to be as human as that other Cas is, but I need you to communicate better. More phone calls, maybe discussing stuff with me first. Maybe even doing stuff together, letting me help you.”

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the road, seeking comfort from his nerves in the tarmac. Cas turned his blue gaze down to their shyly entwined hands on the seat, regarding them thoughtfully for a moment.

“I never realized you worried about me when I was gone, Dean. Not really. I didn’t know you wanted me to stick around even if I wasn’t useful.” 

Cas paused for a moment as he squeezed Dean’s fingers a little tighter in his own. 

“I’ll stay, Dean. I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t.”

Dean didn’t thank him or offer any further discussion for quite a few miles. Cas didn’t mind, satisfied with the flushed, relieved smile that broke over Dean’s face.

 

***

 

By the time they reached the Men of Letters secret bunker, their doppelgangers and Sam were already setting up for the afternoon. Sam was making a list for a grocery run and a few spell ingredients that they didn’t keep at the bunker. Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas were pulling out many of the books that Dean remembered referencing back when they were trying to find Purgatory—thick tomes on Eldritch gods and H.P. Lovecraft’s letters on the subject. 

Wondering how best to be useful, Dean pulled out the scrying stone and found himself staring at it, wondering what memory they should try next. 

“Maybe when I took the Mark of Cain?” Dean wondered out loud. “Or when I got rid of it? Or when I found you again Cas, as Emmanuel?” He directed his eyes over to Cas, who was absorbed in his phone, texting Morgan to check some details.

“Actually,” Alt-Cas cleared his throat and addressed them all. “I have an idea what we should try next. Something I have a hunch about.”

They all looked at him expectantly.

“Lincoln Springs, Missouri,” he stated. “Lucifer’s Crypt...” His blue eyes moved to settle on Alt-Dean as he briefly paused. “…when Naomi tried to have me kill you, Dean.”

Both of the Deans nodded, and both of them gave their angels reassuring smiles. The mirrored expressions were slightly unnerving to watch. 

Sam blinked and looked thoughtful, but said nothing.

Dean slapped his palms down to his thighs, rubbing them over his jeans as he replied to Alt-Cas, “Sure, Cas. If you have a hunch, we’ll go with it. I suppose—” 

Dean paused, turning to his Cas. Once he’d caught his eye, he smiled reassuringly at him before he continued.

“—as much as I’m sure neither of us wants to relive that day, I guess it was kind of important in the scheme of things.” 

Cas looked back at Dean, an unspoken agreement that they were okay with going back through what happened. He smiled, a promise that they both understood and they wouldn’t get upset this time.

“Should we all try now?” Alt-Cas asked, looking around.

“Let’s leave it until this evening,” Cas suggested. “Morgan has agreed to fly in to help us prepare the summoning ritual so we need to have everything ready. She’s being kind enough to help us but I’m sure she won’t want to stay here long.”

With a chorus of nods and agreements, they all returned to their tasks.

To Dean’s surprise, his Cas stepped up and offered to accompany Sam on his supply run. The two pored over their shopping lists, discussed quietly and said they’d be back in three or four hours.

Once they’d gone, the Deans headed down to the bunker’s magical storage rooms. Sam had left them with a checklist. It contained a list of items that would have sounded obscure anywhere except there.  

“What’s an emotional virgin?” Dean questioned with a quirked brow as they stood amongst the shelves. “because we need the tears of one, apparently.”

“Someone who’s never truly loved another person,” Alt-Dean replied as he poked around in a box labeled  _ Charcoal Chunks: Medium _ . “Actually pretty hard to find, I imagine. Even people as full of bullshit as us love someone, when it comes down to it.”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted, tiny bottles clanking as he tried to read all of the labels in the “ _ Tears: Bottled”  _ crate. “So you kept trying to insist to me in the car the other day. Did you know?”

Dean paused his bottle shuffling, tilting his head at his twin as he continued.

“Did you know Cas was in love with me, when you were saying that stuff? Am I the only one who’s been oblivious to it all this time?”

Alt-Dean snorted as he slammed shut the charcoal box. “Oh, please, Dean. Don’t try and play innocent with  _ yourself. _ You may have been unsure of Cas’s true feelings but you had a hunch.” He raised a challenging eyebrow at Dean. “You knew your feelings too—don’t deny it. I’m aware that denial is one of our more advanced skills.”

Dean scowled as he rattled around looking for their supply of human ashes. “Jesus, between you and Sam it’s like a damn daytime talk show around here. Yes, I like Cas, okay. We’re… working on it.”

“Fine.” Alt-Dean smiled smugly. “Just take your time when you ‘work on it’ the first time. Lots of lube and an old towel.”

“ _ Will you stop _ !” 

Aghast, Dean slammed the door on his way out, leaving Alt-Dean doubled over an ancient urn in tears of laughter.

 

***

 

Several hours later, everything was in place. The doppelganger couple requested the use of the TV and went off to snuggle up in front of an old Western. They were understandably anxious and wanted to try and relax while they could. The original Dean watched them wander off, frowning thoughtfully. He found himself wondering if he and his Cas would ever be able to do such simple things so casually.

_ Cas probably could _ , Dean found himself thinking.  _ I’m the problem _ .

Frustrated with himself, Dean stomped off to the kitchen to help Sam put away the groceries.  

“What did that can of beans  _ do _ to you, Dean?” Sam commented prissily, grabbing the paper bag back from him. “You’re supposed to put them on the shelf not  _ through _ the shelf.”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Dean snapped.

“Right.” Sam started filling the fridge with beer, waiting.

“It’s just….” It only took a minute for Dean to turn around, leaning back on the kitchen counter with the heels of his hands and giving up all pretense at unpacking.

“Look, you said I could talk to you about stuff, right?” Dean continued, sounding less nervous than Sam expected but a lot more annoyed.

“Yes. Move.” Sam elbowed past him to the pasta cupboard.

“But what if I’m just not good at it?” Dean grumbled, frowning into space over Sam’s shoulder.

Sam sighed as he realized they’d forgotten spaghetti. “Good at talking? We know you’re not.”

“No, good at _ it,  _ stuff with Cas.” Dean reiterated, turning his gaze to look back to his brother as he turned back to the paper bags.

Sam froze. “Woah, good at what? I know I said you could talk to me Dean but I do not—”

“Good at the day to day stuff Sam,” Dean interrupted hastily.  “Jesus. What is it with you people?” 

Raising a brow, Sam let the comment slide. “The day to day stuff? So, you and Cas are….?” He waited pointedly, a jar of jelly in each hand.

“I, uh, yeah.” Dean scratched awkwardly at the hair behind his ear. “He finally told me how he felt and I, well, I guess I—well, we’re gonna try.”

Sam was quite proud of himself for not showing his relief and excitement for his brother, who would probably have a lot to say about Sam’s investment in his love life. He maintained a neutral expression. “That’s great, Dean,” he answered nonchalantly. “I’m happy for you. But what is it you don’t think you can do?”

“I just don’t know how to approach any of this. I’ve never been with a guy, I’ve barely even had a real relationship outside of Lisa, which was never going to work. How do I let someone in like that? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Dean confessed, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere mid-way up the opposite wall.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do anything, Dean.” Sam shrugged. “Move over, your butt is on the jelly cabinet.”

Dean moved a few inches.

“It’s just Cas,” Sam continued. “Who you are, who he is, hasn’t changed. You just get to be closer now. Do whatever you want, try things. Cas, of all people, isn’t going to be the one to judge you if you make a few missteps early on.”

_ Why does it seem so simple when Sam says it? _ Dean thought somewhat grumpily, though he smiled a little. 

“I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?” he asked, finally looking at his younger brother, searching for someone who had the kind of acceptance he was struggling with himself.

“You are. You’re just scared of things changing,” Sam nodded, finally folding his arms and leaning back on the edge of the counter too, so they were elbow to elbow, “but that’s okay, Dean. No one expects you to have answers overnight, least of all Cas.”

After a beat, Sam turned his head towards Dean and continued thoughtfully, “That said... maybe you should just kinda dive in, Dean. I mean, you can  _ see _ how good this could be, right? You’ve kind of got a special advantage,” Sam said, chuckling lightly.

Dean laughed in return, nudging against Sam with his shoulder. “Right. Them. Cas and I would probably have just carried on the same and never faced it, without the doppelganger effect,” he joked, though there was a definite truth to his words.

Pulling away from the counter, Dean stepped towards the door, before turning to speak to Sam one last time.

“Thanks, Sammy. For understanding and just wanting me to be happy.”

“Look at you with all the grown-up words,” Sam teased. “You’ll be eating your broccoli next.”

“Bitch,” Dean threw back over his shoulder.

Sam called after him as he fled, “Jerk!”

 

***

 

Dean found himself knocking on the door of Cas’s room, knowing that it would be another hour at least until Morgan arrived at the bunker.

“Come in,” Cas called through the door.

Looking up as the door opened, he smiled. “Dean,” he greeted him with a nod.

“What’s all this?” Dean asked, indicating the plastic shopping bags scattered all over Cas’s very-unused bed.

“Oh…” For a moment, Cas seemed a little embarrassed. “While we were out, I got Sam’s help to shop for some clothes.”

Dean blinked. “Clothes— like, non-trench coat clothes?”

Stepping into the room and closing the door, Dean noticed that Cas was holding a bundle of fabric. He stood in front of the mirror that was attached to his dresser.

Cas nodded. “Yes, Dean. I thought that perhaps it was time I left Jimmy’s wardrobe behind and found one of my own.”

Dean sat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him and gesturing eagerly in his direction. “Well, show me, Cas. I think it’s a great idea as long as it’s something you want to do for yourself. Not for anyone else… not even for me,” he added carefully.

Cas emptied out one of the bags on top of the dresser, rifling through the fabric with one hand while the other worked open Jimmy’s belt. His back to Dean, he pulled a pair of dark jeans from the pile as he spoke.

“If I’m honest, it’s for both of us,” Cas admitted. “I want to fit in a little better. It seems like the easiest way to do that is to try and adopt some more human habits. I’d like to see what that’s like for myself—this body is mine now, after all. But I also know that having a male vessel makes us pursuing a relationship more awkward for you than it would have otherwise been, Dean. While I don’t think you object, it’s new for you.”

Cas paused for a second, kicking off Jimmy Novak’s old dress pants and pushing them out of the way with one foot. Shaking out the jeans, he bent over to step into them and tugged the heavy material up to his muscled, tight thighs. Thanks to Jimmy, Cas had the legs of a runner, though Dean had never thought about it much before now. 

“I don’t think I need to constantly highlight that I’m not human. Or how inexperienced I am at being on Earth. I don’t want to make this any harder for you, on top of everything else that’s new,” Cas confessed as he straightened up. 

From his perch on the edge of the bed, Dean shifted slightly. He’d seen Cas in various stages of undress before, once even naked and covered in bees. But back then, taking much note of his body had been a forbidden thing. Dean had always thought he was good-looking, he’d felt the spark of  _ something _ they shared deep in his stomach. Now, he suddenly realized, things were different. Now paying attention was not only allowed but probably actually encouraged, in the scheme of things.

Realizing that he had been too busy staring at Cas’s ass to actually respond to a thing he’d had said, Dean wet his lips nervously and dragged his eyes back up.

Cas turned to look back at him. “Dean?”

The jeans were still undone but pulled up over his hips to mostly cover Jimmy’s pale blue boxers as Cas weighed up two shirts, deciding which to try. 

Dean tried desperately to ignore the peek of sharp hip-bones.

“Uh, yeah, Cas. I honestly don’t mind what you wear, it’s just you, to me. But this is your choice, and I’ll support it.” Dean smiled. More than anything, Cas had been his best friend for years. Having his own body that was no longer occupied by Jimmy at all, it made sense that he’d want to connect with it more.  _ And damn it Dean,  _ he thought firmly,  _ you are going to stow your issues with changing things and just be supportive.  _

As Cas continued changing his clothes, Dean was having rather more trouble concentrating than he was sure he was comfortable with.  _ Too late now, _ he thought. His dick definitely didn’t seem to have got the memo that he needed to take this slowly, to think about this a lot more.   _ One step at a time, Dean. But still… overthinking it, like you said to Sammy. _

 

_ *** _

 

Cas had his gaze resting intently on Dean as he unbuttoned his shirt, his head tilted a little as if he was studying Dean’s reactions. As he began to shrug Jimmy’s white work-shirt off, he caught Dean’s teeth worrying at his bottom lip just a fraction. 

_ Oh.  _ Castiel mentally connected the action with his inadvertent striptease.  _ Interesting. _

Cas knew that Dean had made his choice. They were going to give this a try; being together, allowing the connection that pulled at them to develop. But Cas hadn’t been sure, until he deciphered Dean’s tiny slip, exactly how far. He didn’t know if Dean would want their relationship to develop into something more physical than the tentative holding of hands and brushing of lips that they’d enjoyed so far. They hadn’t talked about that kind of stuff—or much at all—just yet.

That tiny bite caused Cas to wonder if maybe, just maybe, one day he would.

Jimmy’s white shirt slid to the floor, pushed aside with Cas’s foot much like the old slacks. Cas could almost feel Dean’s eyes rake up his muscled stomach as he shook out a soft, casual shirt with long sleeves that Sam had helped him pick out. The fabric was a bluey midnight color and offered no resistance when touched, unlike the stiff dress shirt Cas was used to wearing. It wasn’t a t-shirt or plaid layers like the Winchesters both wore, but it was a good start to ease himself in, Cas figured.

Cas looked down to begin to do up the buttons across his chest.

Dean stood and approached Cas, smiling slightly as the soft sleeves fell around Cas’s arms while he worked the buttons down across his stomach.

“I like it,” Dean offered softly, a tinge of fondness to his smile that Cas found he rather liked.

“I’m glad,” Cas responded carefully, watching Dean’s hands as he reached for the fabric hanging loosely on Cas’s forearm and began to roll it up.

Dean rolled up the first shirt sleeve without a hitch, securing it in place behind the elbow just like he did for his own. 

Cas tilted his head, observing as Dean began the second sleeve. Dean’s fingers grazed across Cas's forearm, gathering the fabric. Even with such an insignificant touch, the feel of Dean’s skin against his was electric. 

_ I wonder… _ Cas thought. Looking down at Dean’s hands as they slowly slid the sleeve up his forearm, Cas carefully mimicked the almost hidden lower-lip bite that he’d seen Dean display, rolling the inner part of his lip between his teeth.

Raising his gaze to Dean’s face, he caught the man’s green eyes resting on his mouth; Dean’s own lips parted just the tiniest fraction as he observed Cas’s telltale motion.

Clearing his throat quietly, Dean smiled as he finished off the second sleeve. He reached across the very-little space between them to run his hands down Castiel’s chest, smoothing out the fabric. “You look good, Cas.”

Any doubts Cas had previously had as to the extent of Dean’s desire to pursue this with him began to fizzle out. He noticed his tiny reactions to them being close, and he felt the spark between them more intensely than ever. It was one-part terrifying and one-part exciting and Cas had no idea what would win.

“Thank you,” Cas said, pleased. He swallowed down a burst of nerves as his large, strong hand moved forward to rest very tentatively just above Dean’s hip.

The nuances of flirting and the subtleties of being so close to someone weren’t entirely alien to Cas, but the newness of being allowed to flirt with  _ Dean _ definitely had him a little thrown.

There was a tiny, breathless pause in the air while they both stood, just looking at each other. It was the same as every other time they’d stared in the past ten years, and yet so different.

“May I kiss you, Dean?” Cas asked somewhat cautiously, looking up the inch or two that it took him to meet Dean’s eyes.

Dean laughed just a little, no more than an exhale of breath, as if the question was absurd given the situation. Cas’s hand was a hot, heavy weight on Dean’s hip that his entire attention seemed drawn to.

“Do you  _ want _ to kiss me?” Dean asked, the corner of his lip quirking up at Cas.

“Yes, very much so.” His response was simple and eager.

“Of course you can, then. You don’t need to ask,” Dean chuckled, leaning down into Cas’s space and helping him close the short distance.

Dean’s hand trailed slowly up Cas’s forearm as their lips connected, his other coming to the middle of Cas’s back to repay the angel’s bravery by pulling his chest against him.

The kiss was gentle and slow, but not at all like the cautious, shy meeting they’d had on the walking trail back in Wyoming. This was warm and eager, despite its languorous pace. They took their time, breathing each other's air and learning each other's taste. There was an undercurrent of mutual want that ran through them now, finally freed. It spelled out clearly that there was a desire in them both that, one day, would carry them a lot further. 

 

***

 

Sam carefully placed the mirror-like scrying stone down, eyeing it respectfully as he pushed it to the center of the map table. The doppelganger couple were already sat along the European side. They were preparing, and Sam was about to send a quick text asking his brother and Cas to come and join them, when he heard voices coming up the corridor.

“Perfect timing,” Sam noted with a grin, sitting down and watching the entryway. 

When Dean and Cas stepped into the room, they were met with loud whistling and clapping from both Sam and the doppelganger couple. 

“You bastard,” Dean eyed Sam with a squint.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, because it was me that tipped everyone off to your budding romance, not the entire decade of staring and pining. Jerk.”

“Nice shirt,” Alt-Dean commented with a wicked grin, winking at Cas as he stood blushing next to Dean. 

“Ah, yes. I, uh, thought maybe—” Cas uncharacteristically stumbled over his words, lowering himself into a seat opposite Sam. 

Alt-Cas reached across to squeeze his shoulder. “Really, Castiel. If you ignore the fact that flirting is Dean’s secondary language, he was actually trying to be nice. We’re glad that you two decided to give things a try.”

For a moment, the two angels actually smiled at each other.

Sam and the Deans looked at each other with wide eyes, the unspoken agreement seeming to be that they wouldn’t mention it.

Alt-Dean cleared his throat and pointed towards the stone. “So, a quick trip down memory lane before Morgan gets in?”

“Yes.” Cas seemed extremely relieved to have the topic changed. “She texted me and said she was about ten minutes away. So let’s have another go at this.”

“The crypt?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Cas. His eyes lingered heavily on the angel, full of unasked questions.

Cas nodded in return, giving a small reassuring smile. “It’s okay. It won’t be pleasant to watch, but it’s over.”

All seeming to be in agreement, Cas reached for the scrying stone, waiting for Dean to recall the details and add his fingers to the edge before he began.

“ _ Orr'euh'ee ot soth, mgah'n'ghft ya mgleth ot lloig! _ ” Cas intoned in the bizarre, guttural Eldritch language. 

With a ripple, the stone took them to the inside of Lucifer’s Crypt.

> _ “Cas. Cas, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you're in there and you can hear me, you don't have to do this...”  _
> 
> _ Dean’s voice settles into the stale air, tones of anger and panic coming through. His eyes settle upon a distant-looking Cas standing in front of him. The angel has his shining silver blade out and raised, his jaw tight as he stares Dean down. Even as his words finish, the fist holding the blade swings, punching forward at Dean. _
> 
> _ “Cas!” _

Suddenly, the tablet rippled again and the view switched. Sam and the dopplegangers looked over to Cas, seeing his brow furrow as he pushed his own memory over at the same time, overlapping Dean’s. He was trying to show them something.

> _ A gleaming white office comes into view, a prim-looking middle-aged woman with brown hair and a grey suit is the focus of Cas’s vision. _
> 
> _ “I won’t hurt Dean,” Cas forces the words, an almost despairing panic to his otherwise firm voice. _
> 
> _ “Yes,” the woman intones venomously. “Yes, you will.” _
> 
> _ “Cas! Fight this, this is not you! Fight it!” Dean’s voice rips through the office and suddenly Cas is back with him, watching his own hand fly down to slash viciously at Dean. _
> 
> _ At the last moment, Dean manages to raise a rough, blocky looking piece of stone to shield himself. As the angel blade slams into it there is a flash and a deafening clang that echoes around the interior of the room. _
> 
> _ Cas lowers his eyes to the rocky floor of the crypt. When he raises them again, gasping, the office is once more in view. _
> 
> _ “What have you done to me!” his voice growls out desperately. _
> 
> _ “Just relax, Cas. Let your vessel do what you know deep down is the right thing,” the suited woman says almost soothingly. _
> 
> _ With another shimmer of the stone, Cas comes back into view, as seen by Dean’s eyes. He’s holding his head, looking panicked.  _
> 
> _ “What have you done to me, Naomi?” he repeats, his angry rumble cut with an undercurrent of fear. _
> 
> _ “Who’s Naomi?” the scene moved as Dean stood, reaching over to grab at the rough-cut chunk of stone again, writing visible here and there on its hewn surface. _
> 
> _ As Dean moves, Cas steps forward, his face blank and robotic as he swings for Dean again. Raising the stone, Dean blocks him briefly—but to no avail. Superior in strength and with a cold disregard for his friend, Cas reaches behind Dean, and a sickening snap reverberates around the crypt—the sound Dean’s arm breaking.  _
> 
> _ The stone he held drops, smashing open to reveal a tablet inside, lighting up the whole crypt with thunder and magic.  _
> 
> _ Cas’s face remains entirely emotionless as he swings again and again for Dean, thuds of flesh on flesh and Dean’s groans of pain echoing around the crypt as Cas drives him down to his knees. _
> 
> _ As his eyes flicker to the stone, Dean’s rough voice raises again. _
> 
> _ “You want it? Take it. But you’re going to have to kill me first.” There is a pause, while the angel swings at him again.  _
> 
> _ “Do it!” Dean bellows. _
> 
> _ The office once more.  _
> 
> _ “Please,” Cas begs. The woman, growing frustrated, is still visible in front of Cas as he pleads.  _
> 
> _ “End this, Cas!” _
> 
> _ The crypt again. The vision is growing chaotic as it veers back and forth between Naomi and Dean’s smashed, bleeding face, being beaten repeatedly with Cas’s fists and the hilt of his blade. Blood clouds the edge of the scrying stone’s vision and a loud panicked heartbeat settles into the background of the room, as if Dean could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.  _
> 
> _ “Cas, this isn’t you...” Dean, pleading. _
> 
> _ “Bring. Me. The tablet.” Naomi, demanding. _
> 
> _ “Cas…Cas, I know you’re in there.” Dean raises a hand, no longer fighting back, just begging for his friend to remember. “I know you can hear me. Cas...” _
> 
> _ Dean’s voice breaks, pleading, but he continues; _
> 
> _ “It’s me. We’re family.” _
> 
> _ As seen by Dean’s eyes, Cas pauses. His blade is held above Dean, frozen as he contemplates his killing blow.  _
> 
> _ “We need you. I need you…” Dean’s voice is weak. _
> 
> _ “You have to choose, Cas. It’s us, or them.” In the office, Naomi’s voice is hard. _
> 
> _ The air in the crypt seems suspended for an instant, Dean’s words hanging in the air.  _
> 
> _ Cas relaxes his fingers and the angel blade drops to the floor with a clatter.  _
> 
> _ Slowly, he bends down to pick up the tablet from the floor. A golden light bursts out of its surface, enveloping the crypt, the office, everything the chaotic vision shows. _
> 
> _ Cautiously, Cas moves towards Dean, hand outstretched. The scene tilts as Dean cowers in front of the angel. _
> 
> _ “No! Cas…Cas!” Dean begs. _
> 
> _ The look on Cas’s face is one of concentration. The blood clouding the edge of the vision clears, the heartbeat fading.  _
> 
> _ “I’m so sorry, Dean.” Cas’ voice—tired, confused, but his own. _
> 
> _ “What the hell just happened?” _

Sam looked around the table at the somber group, the doppelganger couple holding hands on the table top, with sad eyes but seemingly unsurprised. His Dean and Cas were still focused on the stone, showing more.

> _ “So this Naomi has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?” Dean seems to be standing now, eye to eye with Cas. _
> 
> _ “Yeah.” Cas looks down at the tablet in his hands. _
> 
> _ “What broke the connection?” Dean’s voice is baffled, looking down to see his hands spread wide in question. _
> 
> _ Cas opens his mouth to respond. _

Without any warning at all, the flat scrying stone began to vibrate across the table. The vision on its surface flared brightly, and a golden glow illuminated the bunker.


	18. Chapter 18

“What happened?” Sam asked, frowning. The scrying stone was blank. “Did we break it?”

“No, Sam,” Alt-Cas sounded excited. “I think that was it! We found it!”

They all blinked at one another. 

“Castiel,” Alt-Cas continued, looking over to his twin. “What did you say? When the memory cut out, do you remember what it was you said?”

“Uh,” Cas shrugged. “Just ‘I don’t know’, I think.”

His Dean nodded beside him. “Yup, then you said you had to protect the tablet and flapped out.”

Alt-Cas grinned widely, turning to his partner beside him. “Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes,” Alt-Dean’s gaze softened as he smiled back at Alt-Cas, before looking around at the rest of the table to explain. “ Since then, Cas has explained to me that initially, he was going to say exactly what your Cas said—that he 'didn't know'. But instead, he had a moment of bravery.. .”

Alt- Dean grinned across at Alt-Cas as the angel completed his sentence for him. “‘You’… I said ‘You’.”

“‘You’?” Dean blinked, before suddenly turning around to question his angel. “Me? It was  _ me _ ?”

Cas’s mouth flapped, fish-like.

“Wait a minute. Are you guys saying that all of this...” Sam leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and gesturing as he looked around at them all, “was caused by  _ one word _ ?”

The Deans and the Castiels slowly nodded. 

“I guess so…” Alt-Dean chuckled in amazement. “When Cas—my Cas—said that it was me that broke the connection, I started thinking about how the bond we had seemed like it was…more.” He flushed a little, an odd sight on this usually confident version of Dean.

“More?” Sam asked, encouraging him to continue.

“It seemed like together we could do anything. Even crazy stuff, like break Naomi’s hold on Cas, just by trusting in each other. I’d always thought a lot of Cas but everything was clearer, then.” He looked over to his fiance, smiling. “Cas took off to protect the tablet, but we kept in touch, he told me what he was doing. He sent a text from almost every Biggerson’s in the continental United States,” he laughed.

Alt-Cas groaned as he picked up the story. “I did. I never told him where I was, of course. But once I realized that Dean was what broke the connection to Naomi, it was only a matter of time before I worked up the courage to tell him how I really felt about him. Via one of those texts, from a Biggerson’s just before the angels found me.”

“By text?” Sam interjected sarcastically. “How romantic of you.” 

“I was being hunted by angels. I didn’t know if I’d get another chance,” Alt-Cas glared pointedly.

“As much as that’s lovely,” Cas interjected somewhat dryly, “How did just _ that  _ change the whole universe?”

“Well,” Alt-Dean began thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair, “we know a few things. Cas and I both still made a lot of mistakes and treated each other pretty badly at times. But when Gadreel possessed Sam, I didn’t kick Cas out of the bunker. I told him the truth. He went to stay in Rufus’ old cabin for a few weeks. He never worked in that gas station.  So Morgan Hallow, our crazy version, never found him. She still thought he was a demon that possessed her brother-in-law.”

“Until we inadvertently found her, much more recently,” Alt-Cas finished. “It all makes sense.”

“So...” Cas looked dazed. “Your whole world exists because I...uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I wasn’t brave enough to tell Dean that I thought  _ he  _ broke Naomi’s mind control? Because I was afraid of, uh, of what it meant?”

Suddenly Sam was laughing, and everyone else soon followed.

Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas from the other world stood and came around the table, jokingly slapping Castiel on the shoulder. He didn’t look impressed in the slightest, though he returned their excited hugs. Everyone chattered excitedly and Dean went to grab a couple of celebratory beers.

They knew where the rift was. The doppelgangers had a route home.

 

***

 

Three or so hours later, this world’s Cas came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of steaming herbal teas for himself, Morgan and the other bunker residents. It was a powerful herbal draft to help them all sleep and dream. When Cas placed the tray on the table, the Deans on either side of him wrinkled their noses at the bitter pungency of it. 

“So once we’re done with the mixing up of the gunk and the chanting,” the Alt-Dean asked, “we just…go to sleep?”

“Yes,” Morgan affirmed. “It’s not safe to attempt to engage with an Eldritch being like Ymnar while we are awake. To commune with such beings, we should enter the realm of the Dreamer.” She tapped the pestle she was grinding with on the side of her mortar, black charcoal powder dropping off it down into the bowl.

Pausing his own grinding, Sam raised an eyebrow. “The Dreamer—that’s Azathoth, right?”

The witch nodded, gathering the bowls that they each were grinding into and beginning to pour them into a bigger one, making a murky black paste. “Yes. You’ve been doing your reading, I see.”

“I try,” Sam smiled slightly. Catching the Deans twin blank looks, he explained, “According to legend, the entire universe and everything within it that we can see and perceive is an illusion. It’s basically the endless fever dream of an inexplicable god named Azathoth. There are a whole chorus of outer Gods who pretty much sing lullabies to keep him asleep, forever.”

“So what happens if he wakes up?” Dean asked curiously.

“The universe ends?” Cas guessed, sitting down next to Dean and looking over to the sludge in Morgan’s bowl. “That doesn’t smell very pleasant, Morgan,” he noted.

“Yes, the universe ends, and no, it doesn’t smell very pleasant. Magic rarely does, honestly.” Morgan replied to Cas as she stirred, counting the number of stirs under her breath.

“Some of the Outer Gods are purely devoted to keeping him asleep,” Sam continued, turning to Cas. “Some want him to wake—they ‘seek the return of the void’, according to some texts.”

“I think I prefer him asleep,” Dean noted. “One less beastie to tangle with. So where does Ymnar fall on this great sleep/wake debate?”

“Well, Ymnar seeks the destruction of the cosmos, but he lives to serve only Ngyr-Korath, so I suppose his position on it comes down to whatever his master wants,” Morgan spoke up again.

Dusting her hands off over the bowl, she nodded once.

“It’s done. Once the ritual is performed and you drink the tea, you’ll fall asleep in minutes. So don’t drink it walking down the hallway or anything. I don’t know how fast Ymnar will come to us.”

“So,” Dean eyed the thick paste that Morgan had produced suspiciously, “what do we do if he comes? Will we be all together, or is he going to pick on one of us?”

“I have no idea,” Morgan confessed. “Once we’re in the Dreamlands, I have no idea what will happen. But we all know the terms of the deal we’re offering, right?”

They all looked around at each other, nodding.

“So we’re as prepared as we can be,” Morgan finished quietly, her eyes fixed on the table.

“Morgan,” Alt-Cas began quietly, “if you don’t want to do this—”

“Let’s get the ritual started,” she interrupted, turning on her heel and moving to the cleared space in the center of the room. 

They sat in a circle, quiet but alert, and waited for her to begin.

Lowering a match into the bowl in the center, Morgan began steadily intoning the words of the ritual, her eyes closed. The translation had been awkward, and they had ended up with a strange combination of English and R’lyehian. Morgan seemed to think the ritual would work, though, so they forged ahead.

_ “Ymnar, across the abyss, _

_ Ymnar, across the abyss of space and time, _

_ Ymnar, ungoyud erfelcogecheref, _

_ Ymnar, telal… hear our voice!” _

To his slight alarm, Sam noted that Morgan’s voice seemed to be taking on an otherworldly, echoing quality. It sounded like her speech was coming from all around him. 

He tried to turn his head towards Dean in surprise and realized with a jolt of dread that he was paralyzed. Everything felt alien and wrong, every hair on his arms stood on end.

_ “Ymnar, thou who wouldst devour this world and create madness amidst the children of man. _

_ Ymnar, axbim xench’zy vaweg, _

_ Telel... Hear our voice! _

_ Ymnar alal… Hear our voice!” _

As if sensing Sam’s discomfort, Cas sought him out with his eyes. The two looked across at each other with understanding; Cas could sense the magic, the wrongness, too. Taking a breath, Sam returned his concentration to the ritual.

_ “Ymnar, soul and voice of the great sleeping god Azathoth, _

_ Depenga byfeth cho reman urgarth. _

_ Ymnar, carry forth our desire to Great Azathoth, _

_ That we might partake of dreams of madness. _

_ A taste of your gifts… hear us!” _

They had practiced beforehand and a knew their cue, so they all began to chant. The low gravelly timbre of the both of the Castiels voices joined with the Deans and Sam’s own to create a rhythmic chant. In any other circumstance, it could have been beautiful.

_ “Ymnar… Feth qichi. Feth qichi...” _

Sam found it harder and harder to move with every repetition.

_ “Ymnar… Feth qichi. Feth qichi...” _

He lost track of how long they chanted for. It could have been twenty minutes or an hour, but it ended suddenly when the flame in the middle of the circle blew out.

Morgan rose, raising her arms above the bowl.

_ “Open the dream realms of Cthulu to our nightly wanderings, _

_ That we might share the sight of the axbim vawajeza naguz in our own dreaming. _

_ And of He Who Sleeps in the Sunken City of R’Lyeh, _

_ Let his dreams show forth unto us that we might know, _

_ Azathoth axbim jechovog boxatong cho laxengab. _

_ Through Nyarlathotep hear us!!! _

_ Ymnar is thy will. _

_ And his will is ours.” _

Their voices all rose, the last piece of the ritual a loud call to the Gods. They shout it out just as they had been instructed.

_ “IJACEEBO IJACEEBO IJACEEBO! _

_ YMNAR EDIN NA ZU! _

_ BARRA!” _

They all slumped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut, voiceless and wide-eyed for a moment.

Slowly crawling up, Sam looked over to Dean immediately, a habit they’d both had their whole lives. Raising both brows, they shared the intensity of everything they had felt without saying a word, before slowly reaching to help each other up off the floor.

Morgan was sweating, leaning heavily on Cas as she tried to stand. 

“That was... intense.”  For a moment it seemed like she wouldn’t manage to finish the sentence at all, but she rallied and pushed herself up off of Cas, seeming uncomfortable.

“Yeah, intense for sure,” Sam echoed, not looking any happier than she did. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t sleep alone.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “You need a slumber party, Sammy?”

“Honestly, Dean, right now I don’t care. You could even braid my hair. I just don’t wanna be in a room alone while we do this.” Sam shrugged. “I’m just going to sleep out here on one of the couches. If Morgan wants to, she can take the other. All of the rest of you can sort yourselves out however you want, I guess.”

Morgan nodded, reaching to pull her blonde hair from her face where it had become stuck with sweat. “I definitely don’t want to be in a room by myself. Thank you, Sam.”

She took her cup of the tea from its tray where sat, now lukewarm and less pungent, and moved wearily towards one of the long couches in the open room adjacent to their ritual.

“To bed,” she murmured weakly, “to sleep and to dream.”

  
  


***

 

Carrying their mugs of tea, the Deans and both of their angels drifted quietly off down the corridor towards the bunker’s array of bedrooms.

The doppelganger couple stepped towards the first empty guest room on the right, next to Cas’s usual bedroom. Sam had kindly made up for them when they arrived back at the bunker, thinking they would like some privacy. 

“Goodnight, guys. Sweet dreams, I guess?” Alt-Dean offered with a flat, humourless smile. 

“Yeah,” Dean said with an uncertain smile. “Time to find out what we’ve got ourselves into I suppose. See you in the morning, guys.”

After they bid their goodbyes, Dean found himself strangely relieved that his alternate-self left without making a big deal about—or even asking—where Cas was going to sleep. 

Cas himself was hovering somewhat uncertainty around the door to his bedroom. He squinted at Dean as if trying to gauge his tired expression.

“Dean? Are you alright? The ritual was…” Cas trailed off; Dean had been there of course, he knew how it felt. “I feel drained and odd, I imagine it’s worse for you.”

“Yeah, it was something, alright. Honestly, uh,” Dean shifted his weight nervously to his other foot, looking down the corridor towards the door of his room. “Sam’s kinda got the right idea, yeah? I mean, the ritual was kind of freaky and we don’t really know what’s going to happen now…”

Dean trailed off, looking at Cas. Observing the angel’s quiet nod of agreement, he sighed and realized the bastard was going to make him  _ ask _ .

“Would you spend the night in my room, Cas? Please?” Dean gave Cas a pointed, amused look. 

Cas grinned slightly back at him. “Of course. Just for tonight, I suppose. I don’t want to be rushing things and making you uncomfortable.”

As Dean opened the door to his room he smiled, about to respond with gratitude, when Cas continued.

“I’ll even leave my socks on, Dean.”

Whipping his head around in wide-eyed panic, he caught the angel’s mischievous grin.

“You’ve been spending too much time around your other self Cas. You’re becoming a smartass,” Dean laughed, grabbing Cas’s elbow to push him roughly through the door ahead of him. 

Once inside, Cas moved almost habitually towards the chair that accompanied Dean’s dresser, reaching to move the various books and slightly disturbing magazines that were piled on the seat.

Picking one of the magazines up, Cas raised an eyebrow at it and chuckled. “Tentacles, Dean? Really? Seems a little poor taste for today.”

Dean snatched the Japanese porn magazine with the air of a kid caught with his first one, his voice somehow both defensive and a little prissy. “It’s a  _ collectible, _ Cas.”

“Sure,” the angel laughed, placing the rest of the pile on the desk. “I believe you.”

“Well, I apologize if it offends your sensibilities,” Dean snarked mildly. “Feather Fucker Quarterly isn’t available this far South, I had to make do.”

With a smirk, Dean spotted that he’d finally got him—Cas looked the tiniest bit alarmed.

“That…isn’t really a thing, right?” He blinked uncertainty.

“Of course not, you ass. Now come on. We’ve got gross herbs to drink and Eldritch beings to dream of.” Toeing out of his boots, Dean moved over towards the bed.

Dean noted Cas’s eyes twitching to the ceiling in relief as he responded. “Of course. That’s not a thing humans like. Shall I take the chair?”

Cas hovered somewhat tentatively. He eased out of his boots and smoothed down his new shirt with his free hand, not sitting down yet.

Still holding his cup of tea, Dean lowered himself down on top of the bed. He carefully rolled onto his side, minding his motion so as not to spill the gross, dark-green liquid. Dean stuffed the pillow into the crook of his neck and got comfortable. He took a couple of sips of the bitter brew before placing it on the nightstand.

“Might as well sleep on the bed. Time to find out if you snore. Night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rituals used to summon Ymnar/Nyarlathotep in this chapter are based on various sources from both Lovecraftian scholars and the more culturally saturated Cthulu Mythos. You can see a few examples of sources [here](http://zona-de-caos.blogspot.com/2009/07/invocacion-de-nyarlathotep-y-magia-de.html) and [here.](http://www.magma.ca/~yeti/nyarcthu.htm)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has a fair amount of blood and gore. Please make sure you've read the tags.

Dean woke suddenly.

Getting his bearings, he realized that some kind of sound from further out in the bunker must have jolted him out of sleep. He could hear some shuffling and banging in what sounded like the living room area next to the war room. There was no shouting or yelling; It took Dean a minute to place that it was probably Sam moving around, as that was where he and Morgan had stayed to sleep.

 _What the hell is Sammy doing out there?_ he thought. He felt strangely relaxed and calm, his worry and suspicion over what could be happening in the bunker somewhat dulled. The immediate concern he would usually have felt at strange noises in his home didn’t seem to come.

Looking over, he saw that Cas was next to him on the bed. He was curled on top of the blanket, fully dressed, with his hands tucked up under one cheek. Tiny, light snores fell from his slightly parted lips.

Dean reached into his pocket for his phone, very quietly snapping a series of pictures of the angel deep asleep. _A rare opportunity,_ he thought with some amusement.

Satisfied that Cas appeared to be sleeping peacefully enough, Dean slipped his feet into his boots and headed out into the hallway. He felt remarkably clear-headed, despite being far from a morning person. He was also amazingly relaxed—a little too much, if anything.

 _Perhaps I should drink that gunk every night,_ he considered.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Dean turned into the war room. Before he could take in much of the scene before him, he was brought sharply to a halt by a sharp, intense sensation of pain. A strangled scream escaped Dean’s gritted teeth as every muscle suddenly tensed, jack-knifing him down to his knees. His forehead shot down towards the floor, his torso curling over as he involuntarily shrank away from the agony. Trying to yell out again, this time for help, he found his voice gone.

Nothing touched him that he could see, but the pain felt like an invisible force was bearing down onto all of his joints and tendons, under pressure that he couldn’t perceive.

Dean finally registered that the war room and the library area beyond were trashed, bookshelves emptied and chairs overturned. In various positions around the room he spotted Sam, Morgan and the doppelganger couple—he and Cas must have been the last ones to wake.

Their expressions told him they too were locked into this same, hellish battle with their own bodies—unable to stand or cry out, making slow, agonizing movements towards each other across the floor.

He heard a door open down the corridor. “Dean?!”

Dean’s initial scream had probably woken Cas—just as one of the other’s had woken Dean.  

He huffed out a breath of frustration. He desperately wanted to warn Cas, but he couldn’t. The angel’s panic could almost be heard out loud, the sound of his new jeans swishing and his socked feet slapping at the floor in a flat-out sprint as he headed towards them.

 _“Dean!_ ”

Cas appeared, his eyes wide and wild with concern as he skidded to a halt in front of Dean. He was halfway down to a crouch in front of him already, before the pain hit.

Dean focused on watching Cas. His jaw tightened notably at the pain, the tendons in his neck straining as they both leaned slowly, inch by excruciating inch, towards each other.

 _What is happening?_ Cas’s eyes were a question Dean had no answer for.

The minutes seemed to stretch on. Dean’s fingers managed to reach Cas’s knee at almost the same time as Cas’s hand curled around his shoulder. Both gasping silent words that just wouldn’t leave their mouths, they tried to turn and look to see how the others were doing.

Searching for Sam, the pain in his neck muscles almost paralyzing him, Dean became aware that the room was slowly filling with an odd, greenish-blue haze. Not a smoke or fog, more like someone was very slowly changing the light bulbs for erratic green and blue.

Dean’s every muscle burned with agony, and he considered that it would be very simple to just let go, and slip from consciousness. He fought harder.

The air seemed to grow thicker. A tiny twitch of Cas’s eyes drew Dean’s attention to the center of the room, where an inky stain was forming in the air.

The solid-looking mass of dark air was solidifying into a human form. Taking its time, the creature’s body formed piece by piece, limb by limb, slowly growing into a familiar shape.

Dean’s stomach lurched. It had been several years since he had last seen the lean, bookish-looking Asian kid that was now in front of him. The creature turned to look at Sam and Morgan first, Kevin Tran’s voice emerging from its lips as he greeted them.

_“Ahf' dares l' fhtagn?”_

The words were in a language Dean knew Kevin had never spoken. The thing turned Kevin’s head to look at Dean then. His stomach rolled again as he saw that the kid’s eyes were burned out, just as Kevin’s had been in the last moments Dean had seen him—in this very room.

A little late, Dean recalled Cas’s words on the way back from their witch-hunting trip; information he had too hastily dismissed. Ymnar would take the form of something from his environment that would cause grief or fear.

All things considered, it hadn’t been very smart to do this at the bunker—perhaps they should be grateful it was just dead Kevin.

Waiting, the creature folded its arms. Malevolence rolled off it in waves, but it seemed somewhat curious. However, when none of them could respond, it grew agitated.

 _“Nafl mgepahe mgepog mgleth.”_ Not-Kevin stated, his voice coiled with disgust.

It _,_ as Dean could only think of the creature, reached out a hand and suddenly the pain fell away. Cautiously, they all began to stand.

It beckoned to Cas.

Immediately, Dean reached out to grasp at Cas’s wrist. “Cas, no—” he whispered, his voice sore from the poor treatment of his muscles.

Cas looked at him helplessly, and Dean realized that the angel’s feet were moving whether he wanted them to or not. Jerking like a puppet, Cas moved involuntarily towards the thing wearing Kevin’s face.

Dropping to his knees before it, a gross parody of worship that seemed grotesquely heathen on the angel, Cas leaned down to kiss at the ground before its feet.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, a genuine confusion and terror in his voice that chilled the room even further.

Both of the Deans, as well as Alt-Cas and Sam, turned to look at Morgan. She stood a few feet from Sam, supporting herself on the back of a discarded chair. Her blue eyes were wide and scared. At their looks, she raised a hand to her throat, supporting her sore neck muscles as she tried to speak.

 _“Ymnar, c' ymg' mgepuln l' llll k'yarnak ot ymg' uh'eog_ ,” she croaked. Her R’lyehian was slow and stilted, but the creature seemed to understand her, even if no one else did.

Kevin tilted his head to the side, observing her curiously. The kid’s shoulders shrugged. It was a dismissive, pissy motion that made the eyeless corpse look much more like the Kevin that Dean remembered, for just a brief second.

Without any warning, its mouth opened extremely wide—calling to memory the horrific beasts named Leviathan that Dean and Sam had fought years back—and a shadowy appendage erupted from within.

It was a tentacle. An actual, octopus-like tentacle. It seemed like it was made of shadows, yet oddly solid and slightly tinged blue. The end of the tentacle had a sucker on the underside—which was zoning in on Cas.

It attached to Cas’s forehead with a sickening sound. After a beat, the coldest, emptiest voice Dean had ever heard burst from his best friend’s lips.

_“Maybe you will understand this crude language better. Who hath dared summon the avatar of Ngyr-Korath?”_

_We are in so fucking far over our heads,_ Dean recognized through his shaking fright.

Fear, he realized slowly, seemed to be the only emotion he could feel with any strength around this creature. It was feeding on their terror, forcing them to be afraid; the more afraid they became, the stronger it got.

 

***

 

Sam didn’t know exactly what was happening, but the sight of Cas being puppeted by dead Kevin chilled him to the bone.

Shaking visibly, Morgan stepped forward. She addressed her words to the split open, void-like face of Kevin, rather than the angel through which he was speaking.

“Ymnar, Avatar of Ngyr-Korath, in turn created by the joining of Mlandoth, as all dreams were.”

Morgan appeared to be reciting something, though whether it was from the ritual or from her own practice, none of the rest of them knew.

“We sought the Dreamlands to offer a trade to the Mad God of the Void. Will you give Nyarlathotep our words to carry to the City of R’lyeh?”

The creature’s physical hold on them seemed to be loosening. The men in the room all began slowly uncurling and standing up with pained faces, with the exception of Cas, who was rather occupied as Morgan conversed with Ymnar though him.

Sam at least, understood some of what she was saying. Nyarlathotep, he recalled, was the messenger servant of Azathoth, the being who dreamed the universe. He felt a chill down his spine. Over their many years of hunting, he and Dean had come across some unbelievable things. Beasts beyond explanation, Gods and other realms, Darkness and Death himself. But this… well. This was some crazy shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother moving towards Cas. Darting over as swiftly as his sore muscles would allow, Sam held an arm across Dean’s chest, pulling him back.

 _No! Don’t!_ he tried to say with his eyes. Sam had no idea what would happen to Cas if they disturbed him while that thing was using him as a mouthpiece, but it was almost guaranteed not to be good.

Sam knew Dean understood from the way he looked back at him, but he still pressed urgently up against his arm, straining to be closer to Cas. Managing to break free, Dean dropped shakily to his knees next to him, as close as he could get without touching.

Cas was being pulled upwards into the air by the tentacle, as it slowly entwined around his body. Dean’s eyes followed and he stayed in place, untouching but near. Sam could practically see the fear spiking off Dean in peaks, but he had no idea how to help.

 _“State your intentions, Hallow Witch,”_ the void demanded in barely an echo of Cas’s usual voice.

“We seek protection for these men from the same magic as my own—as your own—in the universe which they belong,” Morgan requested, her voice growing stronger as her muscles loosened.

She gestured to Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas, and they stepped forward. Neither of them seemed to know who to look at, their eyes fluttering fearfully back and forth between Not-Kevin and Cas. The angel was suspended just above the floor now, his eyes rolled back in his head as the shadowy tentacle began to slowly wrap further and further around him.

“In return,” Morgan continued, “we would give you the power of my bloodline. Give it back to the Void, never to be returned.”

A low hiss came from Cas’s throat.

“ _You offer this? Your gift? The Ultimate Abomination blessed you, and you would reject it?_ ”

“I am not worthy of it. I fear it.” Morgan’s eyes dropped, almost begging. “Please take it, Ymnar. Give it to someone who desires such power.”

Held high above them by the growing, slightly pulsing tentacle, Cas’s lips curled into a cold, toothy smile. His head lolled back, only the whites of his eyes showing beneath half-closed lids. Dean looked up at him helplessly from below.

 

_“You should fear it._ ” Ymnar sounded joyous. _"Nygr-Korath brings fear. Taste it.”_

As if he’d just dropped over a dip on the world’s highest roller coaster, Sam felt his heart plummet with terror. Dropping to his knees, head in hands just like everyone around him, screams of pure horror filled the air. Only Cas, who seemed completely lost to Ymnar, didn’t seem affected by the crushing fear.

The weight of the feeling wouldn’t even let Sam raise his head, though he heard Ymnar begin to speak again.

 _“I will take your offering for the protection you seek_.” The emptiness that formed words with Cas’s mouth accepted.

Morgan bowed her head.

The feeling of panic that was ringing through their veins began to subside. Sam was relieved to realize that he could look up again. Immediately seeking his brother, he saw him on his knees, near the representation of Kevin. He looked up to where Cas still hung from the ghostly appendage erupting from Kevin’s mouth. It was a bizarre, macabre sight.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Sam realized that while they had been distracted by their terror and the Cas-puppet, the shadows that filled the bunker had begun to move by themselves.

The shadows shook as if an earthquake moved the room, but all was still.

Slowly, shadows began to coalesce into shapes, into humanoid forms—as long as “humanoid” included sucker-covered arms without hands, and beards that writhed, made up of more sucker-covered tentacles.  They had no facial features, their heads just smooth black surfaces of shadow flowing down into tentacle beards. The shadow-men seemed to be able to track movement, regardless—four of them came forward to grip at Morgan’s arms.

Four more of the shadow-men flanked the doppelgangers, not restraining them yet, but their intent clear.

The Eldritch being that puppeted Cas used the angel’s arm to make a flicking motion in Morgan’s direction. A small scream began at her lips as she stood motionless, immobilized by the shadow servants, but it cut off suddenly.

Morgan’s pained protest was replaced by a grotesque gurgling, dripping sound.

“Morgan...” Alt-Cas croaked out. Sam could see the widening of his eyes from across the room.

“Oh God, _Morgan_!” Alt-Dean’s voice joined his partner’s, both frantic now.

Sam saw the white-blue light of grace begin to shimmer Alt-Cas’s eyes as he stepped forward.

Alt-Cas visibly strained, trying to gather up what he could of his broken, misaligned grace. It looked difficult, as if, as he’d explained before, it didn’t quite match to the rhythm of this wrong universe.

Struggling and sweating, Alt-Cas growled, “This wasn’t the deal! No!”

With a touch at his shoulder from one of the shadow-men, his grace flicked off like a light. Alt-Cas’s mouth hung open in panic.

Sam’s brain finally forced his feet to engage and he darted forward. He saw only a little of Morgan’s face before the shadow-men had him, their tentacled touch like iron. What he saw though, was more than enough.

Morgan’s expression was strangely calm as an eerie, blue-green light trickled from her mouth, like some kind of smoke trick to perform at a party. Her magic was leaving her, returning to the void it came from.

Behind the smoke, against her pale skin, dark, thick blood cascaded down from her mouth and eyes.

The gushing redness soaked her shirt and ran across her jeans. It began to gather sickeningly on the floor as Sam watched.

Ymnar was bleeding her dry to take her magic.

Sam heard Alt-Cas’s stricken wails, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood as the puddle grew, beginning to pool at Dean’s knees a few feet away from her.

Dean still knelt, ignored by the shadow-men. He was pale, paralyzed by his own fear as he gazed up at Cas far above.

“Morgan…I’m so sorry, _I’m so sorry,_ ” Alt-Cas sounded so guilty; Sam understood his own Cas well enough that he knew straight away that Alt-Cas blamed himself for this.

As Alt-Cas cried out, Sam realized the truth of it, the clarity sickening rather than relieving.

To Ymnar, there was nothing unfair about this.

This woman had tried so hard to escape this, to be innocent. But her life was to be exchanged for the mere chance for Alt-Cas to live a little longer in his world.

Ymnar thought this was fine, a fair price.

 _“Only in chaos is everything truly fair,”_ the flat, dead tone of this-world’s Cas announced, as if he could hear Sam’s thoughts. _“There is perfect balance within the void._ ”

The blood seemed to drip for far too long, as if it was spilling a higher volume than Morgan’s tiny body could possibly hold. Finally, when the smoke stopped, she slumped forward and slid face first into the lake of her own blood. She never made another sound throughout the whole ordeal, her life ebbing out to the floor in silence.

The regret Sam saw etched on Alt-Cas’s face was indescribable.

Ymnar wasn’t done with them yet.

 _“You can have your protections, Dean Winchester and Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”_ The puppet Cas was still held aloft by the thick blue-shadow tentacle. He waved an arm jerkily in Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas’s direction as he referred to them.

Blue-green light shone in the doppelgangers eyes for a moment, seeming to almost seep down into their chests before the illumination faded.

“Now let us _go,_ ” Alt-Dean growled, tugging against the arms of his shadow captors. “Put Cas down and leave. You took what you wanted.”

Horrifyingly, Ymnar laughed. It was a sickening, howling sound like a hurricane wind, and it contained no emotion.

_“Foolish creation. You have paid for your protections. Now you will pay for summoning me, for looking upon the Dreamlands.”_

“Wha—” Alt-Dean didn’t get to finish his fighting words. The shadow-men jerked him forward, towards the Not-Kevin creature that was the epicenter of the room of bloody destruction.

For the first time since Cas had been possessed, Dean moved. Gasping through the almost physical blanket of terror that held him, he began to stand. Cas was being lowered back down, the tentacle that held him loosening enough that he lolled forward, his eyes open but unseeing.

“Cas!” Dean gasped. “Cas, can you hear me?”

Lowered to stand on the floor, finally, Cas swayed for a second. The tentacle receded until only a few inches or so connected along the back of his head, the rest of it undulating in the air behind him like a snake. It controlled him like a macabre sock-puppet.

Silently, a calm smile on his face, Cas stepped up to Alt-Dean as his shadow captors held him tight.

 _“To look upon the Dreamlands is madness. See no longer, brave little man,_ ” The voice echoed out of Cas one last time as he reached forward.

Alt-Dean’s scream was horrifically piercing as the possessed angel grabbed the sides of his face, and pressed his thumbs down slowly, slowly into Alt-Dean’s eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean woke suddenly.

He didn’t know what woke him, but he was thankful. The awful nightmare that had gripped him lingered in his mind. It had been full of tentacles, blood, and death. 

Rolling over very swiftly on his wide, memory-foam mattress, relief flooded Dean as he saw Cas on the bed beside him. The angel was a respectful distance away but still reassuringly close, with no tentacles in sight.

Cas was curled on his side, his body on top of the blanket fully dressed. His hands were tucked up under one cheek in an oddly human pose. Tiny, light snores fell from his slightly parted lips.  

“Oh, thank God,” Dean sighed, reaching forward to shake Cas’s shoulder. “Just a dream…”

Cas’s eyes fluttered open and he immediately tilted his head up towards the sound of Dean’s voice.

“Dean! What—” He blinked, pushing up and looking around as he questioned Dean. “It wasn’t real?”

“Doesn’t seem so.” Impulsively, Dean reached across and pulled Cas straight into a tight hug, which the angel had no qualms about immediately reciprocating. “You dreamed it too? But—you’re you. Just you. So it wasn’t real?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas reassured into his sandy hair as they wrapped strong arms about each other. “Everything is fine. It was just a dream caused by the ritual, I assume.”

Taking a moment to breathe, Dean allowed himself to smile against Cas’s cheek.  _ I could get used to this,  _ he considered, the muscles of Cas’s arms solid but warm through his t-shirt. Being held by Cas was very new, but certainly not unpleasant.

Somewhat reluctantly, Dean reached out from their relieved embrace with one hand to grab his phone. 

“Let’s see what the time is. Maybe see about breakfast,” he murmured. Sliding his thumb across the screen to unlock it, he froze.

“Dean?” 

Dean’s muscles tensed, and Cas peered over his shoulder to identify the cause of the problem.

There, under Dean’s lock screen, was the open photo gallery of his phone. The most recent photographs were clear as day - a series of pictures of Cas, deeply asleep on Dean’s bed.

Dean’s apple-green eyes were wide with fear as his gaze came up to meet Cas’s.

“Cas… I took these photos of you in the dream. You were asleep and I’d never seen you just sleeping like that, so I…” his voice trailed off. 

“In the dream,” Dean repeated.

Cas’s eyebrows almost met in the middle, thoughtful for a second. Then his face slackened suddenly and his eyes opened wide, round with realization and fear.

“Dean!” Cas flew off the bed, Dean already in hot pursuit. “We have to find Morgan!”

Skidding out into the hallway, Dean slid slightly as they turned to head up to the war room, running in socks. Cas ran right alongside him, both sprinting out of fear of what they might find.

Sam kneeled next to the couch in the dried bloodstain where Morgan lay. 

As Cas and Dean burst into the room he began to stand, turning his head slowly to greet them, his expression confused and melancholy. 

“It’s too late,” he said simply, gesturing down to the petite woman’s paper-pale form. “She’s gone. It…”

Sam paused, looking back down at the tiny, prone body. 

“It looks like she’s been dead a few hours, at least.”

Before they could speak any further, they were interrupted by Alt-Cas’s horrified screaming from down the hall.

Dean and Cas exchanged a horrified look, their matching thoughts clear on their faces: the other Dean. What had become of Alt-Dean?

 

***

 

Sam and Dean had built more pyres together than any brothers, any people, ever should. They’d become quite efficient at it, sadly. When they’d realized that the bunker had a huge furnace with a rack, it was both a relief and a discomfort. They didn’t have to drive to secluded spots to burn monsters, or worse, sometimes friends; they could just load the body up into the furnace and set it on high for twenty-four hours. It was very convenient. At the same time, it was disturbing to think what their Men of Letters ancestors may have used it for, if the collection of jarred ashes in one of the magical storerooms was any indicator.

Sam lifted Morgan’s feet up onto the rack as Dean placed her head down, one of her low-heeled pumps catching on the edge and tumbling off. Replacing it on her foot respectfully, Sam sighed.

“I know she wasn’t exactly a friend. I’m sure she’d done things, bad things, when she was hunting Cas before. But she didn’t deserve this,” he said quietly to his brother.

Echoing his sigh, Dean’s elbows locked momentarily as he leaned his weight against the edge of the sturdy metal rack that slid in and out of the furnace. 

“No one deserves it, Sammy. You taught me that.”

They both looked down at her for a moment before silently wheeling the rack into place, heat causing sweat to bead at their brows. Closing the door, Dean’s finger hovered for a moment above the button that would send the rack into the flames. 

“Thanks, Morgan,” he said solemnly. “You didn’t have to help us, help them. We’re sorry.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Morgan,” Sam added quietly as Dean depressed the button. They turned, moving back up the corridor to avoid the sounds of the furnace ramping up around it’s new fuel.

“Do you think Cas is going to be able to help you? Uh, I mean—other you?” Sam asked his brother quietly as they headed up the stairs.

“I dunno.” Dean shrugged, but it was defeated rather than careless. “He said he’d try healing the other Dean, try regrowing the eyes like he did for his doppelganger’s fingers. But he honestly didn’t sound so hopeful. There's…”

Sam turned his head to see his brothers expression when he paused speaking. He looked troubled but continued after a minute of thoughtful silence.

“He said there’s just nothing where his eyes were. Not that the eyes aren’t there, it’s that there a  _ void _ there and he can’t penetrate it. Like, it’s void with a capital V, y’know?”

Sam huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Capital V for sure.”

Pulling open the door at the top of the stairs, they came back out into the upper sections of the bunker, beginning to head for the kitchen.

“I guess we should be grateful he’s alive,” Sam offered quietly as their boots echoed through the tiled corridor.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Blind trumps dead. But his whole life, man...” he gestured around at the bunker, looking over to Sam and shaking his head. “He can’t hunt if he can’t see. He can’t fight, or fire a gun. He can’t drive. He can’t even see Cas anymore.” 

They were both hushed with the weight of it as they moved into the bunker’s large kitchen. Silently, they began preparing lunch for their extended family.

 

***

 

Later that night, long after dinner, Dean was trying to relax when Cas tapped lightly on the door to his bedroom.

“Dean, it’s me,” Cas called somewhat needlessly. 

The door opened, revealing a crumpled-looking Dean in thin plaid pyjama pants and a plain grey t-shirt. The bedding was askew from Dean’s exit, his laptop on the bed playing an older episode of Game of Thrones while a half-empty bottle of Johnnie Walker rested on the nightstand.

“Any luck, man?” Dean stepped back towards the bed and sat down heavily on the end of the mattress, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. Head bowed, he ran his hands back through his hair before looking up at Cas again.

“Not really,” Cas admitted. He sounded so incredibly disappointed. Dean knew without asking that he felt more guilty than he had any right to.

“C’mere, Cas.” Dean slapped the mattress next to him, smiling crookedly up at the angel. “You’re doing your best. This stuff? No one blames you for not being able to fix it.”

Cas exhaled slowly, pulling at his jeans as he lowered himself down so that they crinkled more comfortably over his legs. “He’s… my friend, I suppose. I just want to help.”

Dean nodded, his eyes caught momentarily by the way the heavy fabric clung to his new boyfriend’s muscular thighs. He hadn’t put much thought into it before, but now he was allowed to notice, Cas definitely had some thick, powerful thighs. He quickly caught himself staring, looking back to Cas’s face and clearing his throat. 

“So you can’t regrow them?” he asked.

Cas smiled slightly as he took in the way Dean looked at him, but it slipped from his face after a moment. 

“No. I healed the skin around it, and there’s no more pain. But—there’s something already there, yet there’s nothing. I can’t move or manipulate the void in any way, its...” Cas looked almost bashful. “It’s a power much older and stronger than my own.”

They sat quietly for a while, both just looking down at the floor in thought.

“How’s Cas?” Dean asked eventually. “The other one. He’s gotta be pretty upset.”

“He is,” Castiel nodded in the affirmative. “When he woke up, there was blood all over the sheets and Dean was unconscious. For a second he thought he was dead.”

Dean grimaced. “Ouch. Wow. Poor dude. Is he doing better now? Does it—does it matter to him? If his Dean is blind?”

Cas shrugged. “He’s upset, it’s a lot to deal with. But it wouldn’t bother me, if you were. I’d be sad for you, but it wouldn’t change anything. So I have to assume he’s the same.”

After a quiet minute, Dean leaned to the side, bumping Cas’s shoulder. “Hey, Cas? I’m glad you’re okay.”

Cas returned his smile and bumped him back. “I’m glad  _ you’re _ okay.” 

Cas looked around to the laptop, still quietly playing through Game of Thrones in the background. “I should leave you to go to sleep. I just wanted to let you know that the other Dean was at least comfortable. And just to see you, I guess. I hope that’s okay.”

Dean found himself grinning in amusement at Cas’s slightly shy tone. “It’s perfectly okay to just want to see me, you know. It’s been an awful day. You’re allowed that.”

Cas laughed slightly at himself. “Right. I’m just used to always making sure I had an excuse.”

Taken aback by the casual comment, Dean raised an eyebrow. “You never had to do that, man. You’re my best friend. Just wanting to hang out would have been fine,” he laughed.

Standing, he moved back to the top of the bed and climbed in. Reaching for the whiskey bottle on the nightstand, he unscrewed the cap and offered it over to Cas. 

“Come on. Let’s just watch some TV. I’ll restart the season, just for you.” Dean’s voice was warm, inviting.

Cas moved up to the side of the bed, using his toes against his heels to nudge off his boots. He reached down to the blanket that Dean had pulled up over the bed, pausing for a beat. He regarded the cover thoughtfully for a moment, one finger nervously playing with the edge.

As Dean watched him, he seemed to come to a decision and pulled the bedding back, slipping under it in his jeans and undershirt. A tiny flutter at his chest let Dean know that Cas was  _ in _ his bed. Fully dressed, but nonetheless, it turned out that he liked the thought. He gave Cas a tiny, lingering smile before turning to fiddle with Netflix.

Returning them to the beginning of Game of Thrones _ ,  _ Dean reclined back against the pillows. Ten or fifteen minutes into the first episode, Cas tilted the whiskey bottle he’d been holding, swilling back the liquid that was left and placing it on the floor. When he slid back into his previous position he leaned into Dean, reaching one arm across Dean’s waist in a half-hug.

“You want to cuddle, Cas?” Dean grinned down at him, mostly teasing to see what Cas would do when called out. Dean had every intention of enjoying the chance to be close with Cas now; he’d always been a bit of a secret cuddler. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas responded matter-of-factly. “I want to cuddle.” 

Dean’s arm was already raising to wrap over Cas’s shoulders, inviting him into his side in a snuggle that would be familiar for almost any couple.

Nuzzling his head down onto Dean’s chest as they both turned their attention back to the TV show, only the brief flick of Cas’s eyes up to catch Dean’s reaction betrayed any nervousness. 

Lowering his face down into Cas’s hair, Dean smiled into the strands as he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the angel’s clean scent before he pressed a kiss against the top of his head.

“Good,” Dean mumbled against the dark, wild shock. “Me too.”

They binge-watched quietly for hours, snuggled up against each other.


	21. Chapter 21

Sam stretched awkwardly, trying to scrape his fingers along his spine where the sweat dripping down his back was making him itch. He was heading back from his morning run, moving down the iron steps that led down into the war room. His brother and Cas sat at the table, eating breakfast. Dean had his feet kicked up on a chair, reclining with a bowl of sugary cereal on his chest. Cas sat next to him, eyeing the bowl suspiciously.

“It’s not really _food,_ Dean, it’s just solid chemical coloring and flavorings in a bowl,” Cas protested as Dean reached over familiarly, trying to poke a freeze-dried marshmallow into his mouth.

“Just try it, Cas. Even Sam used to eat bowls full of this stuff as a kid,” Dean grinned, smiling up at Cas as he finally allowed the morsel past his lips, immediately wrinkling his nose in horror.

“Ahh, but now I know better,” Sam interrupted them with a little grin as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

 _They look happy,_ Sam considered. He’d honestly been wondering how things were going to be once they worked this out. He’d watched cautiously as their doppelgangers had arrived and alerted them to what could be. He thought they’d adjusted well to the fact that not only were each of their feelings reciprocated in the other, but that they could actually be together and be happy.

It was selfish, he knew, but Sam had worried about the impact on his life. His brother and his friend, who both lived with him, were entering into a relationship that was entirely new territory for them both. Both Dean and Cas could be volatile and bad tempered at times, even separately, and Sam foresaw many issues ahead.

So far though, everything seemed to be adorably middle-school between the two. He was happy for them both, incredibly so.

Sam had realized though, as he’d observed them over the last few days, that they were both a little adrift now. They kept second-guessing, unsure of themselves and each other.

 _They’ll find their rhythm soon enough,_ Sam mused. _At that point, I might want to move into a bedroom further from Dean’s._

He smirked at his brother and his angel as he walked on past, leaving them chatting and bickering jokingly as he headed further into the bunker where the showers were.

Ahead of him, down the corridor, Sam saw the door to one of the bunker’s many guest rooms begin to open. Alt-Cas came out first, holding the door open and reaching a hand through to guide Alt-Dean through the doorway.

It had been three days since they had awoken from their terrifying Eldritch dream. As far as Sam had seen, this was the first time Alt-Dean had left the bedroom.

One hand around his fiance’s waist to guide his uncertain steps, Alt-Cas began to walk with Alt-Dean up the hallway towards Sam. He looked tired and sad, Sam noted, but he smiled up at him as they came closer. Sam moved himself along the wall, making sure to move out of the blind Alt-Dean’s path as he came closer.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam offered softly, returning Alt-Cas’s smile as he spoke to them both, “and Cas. How’re you doing, both of you?”

He moved slightly forward, resting a hand on Alt-Cas’s shoulder for a second, his concern genuine.

“Hey, Sam. Could tell it was you,” Alt-Dean smiled thinly at him, though his head wasn’t quite turned in Sam’s full direction, instead pointed somewhere over his right shoulder. “Big feet. Loud steps.”

Sam could picture the little smirk, maybe even a wink, that would usually have crossed his brothers face—but Alt-Dean was somber and quiet. A clean, thick bandage wrapped around him, beginning at the bridge of his nose and up to the eyebrows, tied off neatly at the back of his head. Cas had told Sam that he’d healed up the wounds as best he could already. Uncomfortably, Sam realized that the white bar blocking the space where Alt-Dean’s eyes should be was probably more for other people’s comfort than Alt-Dean’s own.

It hurt to see Alt-Dean, any Dean, like this. Sam bit his lip, very glad in the moment that his doppelganger-brother couldn’t see his face.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, raising a hand to touch slightly at Alt-Dean’s bicep so that he could tell where he was stood.

“Not anymore,” Alt-Dean responded, just as quiet. “Your Cas did a great job healing the wounds and soothing the pain. Now I don’t feel anything.”

He paused for a second and almost seemed to force a smile onto his face.

“I don’t see anything either, but… what can you do?”

“Right,” Sam laughed awkwardly. “Well, Dean and Cas are in the war room if you want to say hi.”

Alt-Cas nodded. “Yes, actually. We wanted to speak to you all, if that’s okay. But first…” he looked Sam up and down, a slight tease to his smirk. “Go shower. You stink.”

Sam rolled his eyes, letting his hand fall down from Alt-Dean’s arm as he stepped past them. “That’s what exercise smells like. Y'all should try it one day.”

“Be quick,” Alt-Dean called back at him as he moved into the shower block. “Don’t take all day conditioning your hair.”

 

***

 

Not wanting to hold anyone up, Sam entered the war room just a few minutes later, with a big white towel wrapped around his head like a turban.

Dean looked up to him and smirked. Cas merely tilted his head slightly curiously to the side. Alt-Cas gave a slight chuckle, and his fiance turned in his  direction as they all sat around the table.

“What’s funny?” Alt-Dean asked quietly.

“Sam’s doing the thing with the towel on his head. He looks ridiculous, as always,” Dean interrupted to explain before the Alt-Cas could respond.

“Ahh,” Alt-Dean knowingly responded. “I’ll miss seeing that,” he added flatly.

For a second, no one knew what to say.

Clearing his throat, Sam lowered himself into a spare chair, careful not to dislodge his hair towel. “So, you wanted to talk to us all? We’re all here,” he added awkwardly, for the blind Dean’s benefit.

“I know,” he snapped quietly. “I’m blind, not stupid.”

“Dean,” Alt-Cas frowned, putting a hand on his partner’s arm. The one word seemed to carry the weight of many hidden conversations over the last couple of days.

Not for the first time, Sam wondered what Alt-Dean said to Alt-Cas, if he’d tried to push him away just like he knew his brother in this world would have done.

Alt-Dean moved his arm, pulling away from Alt-Cas’s touch. “I’ve done enough moping. We need to get home and—” his voice cracked slightly.

“We just need to get home,” Cas finished for him after a pregnant pause.

The three men from this world exchanged uncomfortable looks but generally nodded in consensus.

Dean started to push his chair back from the table. “Alright then. From what I remember of the place, it should take about six hours to get to the Crypt. If we get packed up and leave now, we can stop half-way for lunch.”

Sam pulled his laptop over to himself. “Cas, can you help me review these emails we exchanged with Morgan and see if there’s any magical preparations we need to take, or anything we should be taking with us?”

“Of course,” Cas said as he pushed his chair back, moving around to Sam’s side of the table. He looked over to Dean and the two exchanged a moment of silent communication while Alt-Cas helped Alt-Dean out into the corridor.

Dean nodded to Cas, broke their eye-contact, and moved towards the bedroom corridor. “I’ll meet you in the garage once I’ve got mine and Cas’s bags, Sam.”

Scrolling through the emails, Cas rested a finger on the screen at a certain point. “Morgan doesn’t specify any particular kind of knife to use on our doppelgangers, my angel blade should do just fine. Dean will have it packed, I’m sure.”

Sam looked surprised, turning to regard Cas. “You don’t have it on you? You always do.”

Cas held out a bare arm, indicating the sleeve of his simple blue t-shirt to Sam. “No sleeves. It’s the one drawback I’ve found so far to not having my trench coat on all the time.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded slowly. “I guess that’s true. Otherwise, you like it?”

Sam gestured vaguely up and down Cas’s body, indicating his casual attire as he stood leaning onto the table next to Sam’s chair.

“It’s comfortable,” Cas conceded. “It’s still a struggle to remember to actually change regularly. Without sleeping, there’s not such a clear divide between one day and the next. I tend to do things at night. Mostly I just try to remember to change when Dean does.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Sam replied thoughtfully. “I thought you'd been with Dean in his room—you stay busy the whole night, then?”

Sam asked the question without thinking, out of curiosity, but almost immediately regretted it when Cas quirked an eyebrow

“I’m not certain if you’re inferring what it sounded like you were, Sam, but I am under strict instructions from Dean not to discuss our sex life with you. Not that there is anything to discuss, at present,” Cas replied calmly. “Kissing wasn’t included in Dean’s instructions, so we can probably bend the rules for that grey area. Though if you’d like to give me a little advice on—”

“Nope! Nope, nope,” Sam choked on air and stood sharply from his seat. “I’m fine. You just—you just keep on with that. Sounds like you’re doing fine.”

He reached over and slapped Cas somewhat awkwardly on the shoulder.

“You’re sweating again, Sam. Dean said you would.”

It took Sam another second to connect the dots. “Dean told you to say that, didn’t he. Jerk.”

“Of course, Sam.” Cas smiled good-naturedly. “Rest assured, when I’m having enough sex to be worth talking about, I won’t mention it.”

“How kind.”

Sam closed the laptop and reached to pull the towel from his head, shaking out his hair. Running his fingers through the nearly shoulder-length locks, he smiled at Cas. “Cas, we haven’t really spoken about this with any seriousness, but…”

Sam paused, biting at his lip before he very roughly pulled Cas across into a hug, slapping his back.

“I’m really glad for you, buddy. You and Dean. You deserve to be happy, after everything you’ve been through together.”

Sam could almost sense Cas counting the seconds until it would be polite to wiggle out of Sam’s grasp, so he laughed and let him go.

Cas reached for the laptop on the table, tucking it under his arm to take with them. He gave Sam a little half-grin. “But let me guess, Sam—if this doesn’t work and Dean ends up with his feelings hurt, I’ll have you to answer to? Isn’t that how these conversations are supposed to go?”

Sam laughed. “You betcha. I’ll drop you in an angel trap and leave you on the side of the road.”

Cas looked mildly alarmed.

  


***

 

About four hours later, they piled out of the partially-renovated minivan. Dean had spent the last few days while Alt-Dean recovered working on the beast, beating out dents and repairing the hydraulics on the doors. She was far from respectable, but he seemed to be growing fond of the thing. He’d even named her, to Sam’s amusement—Big Bertha, Baby’s ugly cousin.

Alt-Cas held Alt-Dean’s hand, guiding him across the parking lot subtly as they headed into Dino’s Diner in Cameron, Missouri. They were only a couple of hours out from Lucifer's Crypt, but the driver’s stomach had won.

Choosing a large round table near the back, they all began to shuffle through the menu. Alt-Cas quietly read one to Alt-Dean. Chatting idly about the weather and the drive, the small group waited for their food to appear.

Dean watched solemnly as his twin sat close to his fiance, Alt-Dean looking somehow smaller and less confident in himself than he had even just those few days before.

When the food arrived, Alt-Cas set about cutting it up without saying a word, before guiding Alt-Dean’s hands so he knew where his fork was, where his cup was, where a napkin could be found.

Finding himself feeling oddly emotional, Dean blinked down at his plate, tearing his eyes away from their private moments. Under the table, Cas reached silently for his hand, their fingers twining together.

“They’re good at taking care of one another,” Cas noted very quietly next to him.

Squeezing Cas’s fingers lightly, Dean smiled gratefully at him. “So are we.”

The food was delicious. Despite it being barely past lunch, when they were done, Alt-Dean ordered them all a round of beers.

“A toast to our doppelganger friends,” he managed a smile as he raised his glass. “We traveled a long way and, yeah, it’s been a little rough,” Alt-Dean understated deftly. “But the only reason we’ve got this far is because of your help. So thank you.”

Cas raised his glass too, indicating across the table towards both doppelgangers with it. “I’d like to thank you too. This experience has taught me many things, a lot of them about myself. I’m glad we met.”

The two angels looked at each other and locked their blue eyes for a moment before they nodded and eventually smiled.

“That’s very true,” Dean added, raising his glass in turn as he echoed Cas’s sentiment. “And you know—sometimes we need a little help to see what’s right in front of us. So thanks for that, too. You made a pretty big difference over here.”

To everyone’s surprise, Dean leaned over and briefly pressed his lips to his Cas’s cheek. Quick and gentle, just a sweet acknowledgment of his words, it was the first time they’d witnessed something so obvious. There were smiles all around.

As he was driving, Dean passed the rest of his beer to Cas. Finishing up, they slowly headed back out to the parking lot to Big Bertha.

Sam walked next to Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas, talking quietly. “It’s kinda nice, watching Dean and Cas get closer now, thanks to you guys. I hope they’re brave enough to work out the rest by themselves, when you get home,” he noted.

Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean both nodded, oddly confident.

“They will, in time,” Alt-Dean confirmed. “They took a lot of shortcuts, but I’m blind as fuck and I can see they’ll be fine.”

Sam snorted, and even Alt-Cas smiled faintly.

Thoughtful and quiet, they began the last leg of their journey together.


	22. Chapter 22

“Almost five years since we were here, huh,” Dean commented quietly to Cas as they stood to one side of Lucifer's Crypt in Lincoln Springs, Missouri. 

“Doesn’t look like anyone else has been to this particular crypt since we were here, either,” Cas responded, kicking idly at scattered chunks of rock that littered the floor where they stood. Bending down to pick one up, he turned it over in his hands. “This is from the angel tablet,” he said, handing it over to Dean.

Rolling it in his palm, Dean grunted slightly and nodded. “Huh. Yeah. When I dropped it after you broke my arm and the outer layer smashed. This is what’s left of the outer part, I guess.”

Cas frowned, reaching to rest his hand on Dean’s forearm. “I’m sorry Dean. That whole time was…” he laughed slightly, a bitter sound. “It could have been different. A lot could have been.”

Dean shrugged, carelessly dropping the rock down. “It wasn’t you that hurt me, not really, it was Naomi. Taking off with the tablet was the right thing to do, too. It could have corrupted any of us, and we all had our own bad reasons for wanting it.”

Reaching across to Cas in turn, Dean pulled him to stand a little closer, their hips bumping together as he continued.

“It could have been different, you’re right. But it doesn’t matter really, does it? We still got here.”

Leaning slightly into Dean, Cas smiled. “This is nice. I spent years trying to bury every impulse to touch you or kiss you. Now I can. So I’m not going to regret anything that brought us here.”

Dean’s expression matched as he nodded. “That’s the best way to look at it, I think. Sometimes different roads lead to the same place,” he finished as he slid his arm up Cas’s back, tugging him across the space between them. Cas’s face turned up to meet him in the middle with a kiss. 

Dean marveled at how gentle and pillowy Cas’s large lips were, experimentally teasing his tongue between them as they kissed. They were dry in a way that was soft, a contrast to the rough stubble of his cheeks and chin. It was so different from kissing a woman, to kissing anyone that he’d kissed before. Dean marveled at it every time as if he was learning something entirely new. 

Cas had an intensity when he kissed that delighted Dean. His tongue exploring and pressing back against Deans own, wrestling teasingly back and forth about who’s mouth they would occupy. The quivering virgin from that whorehouse long ago seemed gone, replaced by someone who’d lived a little more and loved a lot more expansively. Cas seemed to throw himself into everything, fearlessly lost in it.

“Timing, guys,” Sam commented dryly just to their left.

Laughing slightly against Cas’s face, Dean grinned. “What, I can’t kiss my boyfriend in front of you?”

Sam snorted. “Not like  _ that _ you can’t.”

Noticing the new term with which Dean had referred to him, Cas grinned slightly goofily up at Dean before they released each other with some reluctance.

Cas turned to Sam. “Are you ready?” 

“I think so. I’ve drawn a few protection symbols—some basics really—and cleared a little space on the floor. There’s not much to it, so I guess we need to bring the doppelgangers in and see what happens.”

Sam opened a small iron gate that led to the stairs which went back up to the cemetery above. It creaked heavily as he stuck his head out, calling up the steps, “Dean! Cas! We’re all good down here.”

Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas looked at each other somewhat nervously as they descended the stairs. They had no way of knowing for certain what would happen, or if this would work. They were trusting in Morgan’s notes—they all seemed to silently agree that despite her initial prickliness, she hadn’t let them down even as she died.

Just from Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas’s approach down the stairs, something was happening. Dean became aware of a faint sound, a humming so low he felt it more than heard it. It was clear from their expressions that Cas and Sam felt it too.

Reaching to his belt, Dean pulled out the old demon-killing knife that he’d spilled blood with for years, once even using it on Cas. In turn, Cas picked up his long, simple angel blade from the top of the sarcophagus next to him where it lay.

As Alt-Cas and Alt-Dean entered the main room of the crypt, the humming became a higher pitch, causing them all to grimace slightly. It brought to mind the unearthly noise and pain that had announced the doppelganger’s arrival a couple of weeks before.

A strange golden light began to glow from a spot in the air, at about head height on one side of the room.

Looking at it, Cas wondered out loud, “Do you think that was where I was standing, before?”

They all shrugged, quietly contemplating the vision they’d seen of Cas and Dean, when Cas had spoken the words that changed everything; the exact point of origin for the rift in reality. 

“I can feel it pulling us,” Alt-Cas stated, guiding Alt-Dean very carefully across the rocky floor.

Alt-Dean nodded as he carefully made his way towards the growing light under Alt-Dean’s guidance. “I can hear it, too.”

The closer they got to the light source, the bigger and more obvious the rift became. A strong wind seemed to pick up, whipping at Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas as they neared it, but leaving their counterparts on this Earth oddly untouched. It was like the rift, and the dark void that was becoming visible beyond it, was somehow intelligent enough to know exactly what it needed.

Their hands gripped together tight, Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas stood in front of the rift. Buffeted by the wind, wincing from the howling sound, they turned so that they faced their twins from this universe.

“Are you ready?” Cas yelled over the humming sound, apprehension showing in all of their faces. 

“It’s going to work,” Alt-Cas responded firmly. “Morgan believed it. I believe her.”

They all nodded. 

Gripping their weapons with cautious expressions, Dean and Cas brought up their arms. The ends of their blades rested ready over the hearts of their doppelgangers.

Sam stood back, his eyes locked on them but playing no part.

“Bye, Dean,” the original Dean from this world grinned. “Thanks for everything. Good luck trying to fix stuff on your side, man. Let your angel in, okay? You need him.”

Alt-Dean’s smile was sad. “How about you do the same, Dean?”

They slapped each other on the shoulder, their goodbyes done.

Cas lay the tip of his angel blade to the right of his doppelganger’s sternum. “Goodbye, Castiel. I’d like to apologize to you, for...”

Cas trailed off, but the other angel smiled. 

“Me too. Goodbye, Castiel.”

Exhaling, in unison, Dean and Cas closed their eyes and pushed hard, burying their blades in their twins hearts.

The two doppelgangers didn't make a sound, whipped away into the void by the strange wind as soon as their blood was spilled.

  
  


***

 

_ For a moment the Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas experienced a sensation not unlike a silent hurricane; like being buffeted back and forth and pulled at, though there was absolutely no movement. Then an odd feeling of being stretched, before a sudden g-force hit them hard—like they were elastic bands, drawn back and then flying through space. _

_ With a hard smack that gave him a vicious carpet burn all the way up his uncovered left forearm, Alt-Dean hit something solid. The world felt like it lurched and tilted, swinging back and forth like a boat in a storm, taking a moment to settle. Alt-Dean realized the hardness he had hit was the floor. _

_ Alt-Cas scrambled and raised his gaze, wobbling a little as he slowly stood. Around them, soot and charred shapes showed the remains of the restaurant they had departed from a couple of weeks before. It was dim and musty, shut off and obviously closed due to the damage. _

_ “Cas?” Alt-Dean called out, afraid in the dark that was now his world. _

_ “I’m here,” his fiance’s hand found his immediately. “I’m here, Dean. We’re home.” _

 

***

  
  


Sam, Dean, and Cas drove in silence to a nearby motel.

They had all agreed that they were tired and strangely drained, not wanting to squeeze the drive home into the waning day. 

Dean pulled the minivan up in front of the office and cut the engine. Not moving immediately, he gazed thoughtfully out of the window. “Do you think they made it?”

“I hope so,” Cas responded from the seat behind Sam. “To have gone through all that and fail…”

He trailed off and they all seemed to come to the silent consensus to leave it there. 

“I’ll kind of miss them,” Sam admitted with a grin. “You were funny, Cas.”

Cas looked mildly offended. Shrugging it off, he nodded across to Dean. “He was less short-tempered. I’ll miss them too.”

“And me,” Dean agreed. “You learn a lot about yourself when you see yourself from the outside, huh?”

They sat thoughtfully for a minute before Dean nodded to the office, passing Sam a credit card from a tin box full of them that he kept in his duffle. “Grab us a room, Sam, so we can all wash up and get dinner before we sleep. Been a long day.”

Sam went in and paid, returning to the minivan to pass a room card to Dean, indicating with a wave that he had one of his own. At his brother's slightly embarrassed protest, he shook his head.

“No, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you and Cas aren’t really  _ there _ yet,” he cautiously phrased. “You still need your privacy. That’s gotta be a rule from the start. If you’re really going to change things, you need time alone.”

“Right,” Dean conceded as Sam made to leave.

“So you two get the standard double room and I get a premium one all to myself,” Sam smirked. “My perk for not mentioning the amount of unwanted angel tongue I was exposed to earlier.”

“Oh, believe me, Sam, it was by no means unwanted.”

“Don’t need to know, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes

“He’s really very—”

“Dean, I am sat right  _ here, _ ” Cas protested from within the car. “Don’t use me to tease your brother.”

Laughing, Sam made to slam the car door. “Sleep tight, jerk.”

“Bitch.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back into NSFW territory in this chapter.
> 
> Yes, I gave them a smutty epilogue. It just seemed like they deserved it, after all that!
> 
> Take a look at the end of the chapter if you'd like to see translations.

 

**~ 2 Months Later ~**

 

Dean’s phone bounced across the kitchen counter, his brother’s name lighting up the screen.

“‘Sup, Sammy?” Dean sandwiched the phone between his cheek and ear as he carried two plates laden with steak and homemade fries through to the war room table.

“Just letting you know that I’m going to stay up here tonight,” Sam’s voice came through clearly as Dean lowered the plates down, sliding one along through the Pacific Ocean to Cas’s seat on the other side.

“Everything go okay? You promised me it was one vampire, Sammy, or we’d all be there.”

“Yeah, the vamp is dead,” Sam clarified quickly. “No worries. I just thought maybe it was time you and Cas had the bunker to yourselves overnight.”

His brother’s forced nonchalance wasn’t fooling Dean.

“You’re skipping town because you want Cas and I to have time together...” his voice trailed off at the implication. “Oh.”

“Look, Dean,” Sam began, “I didn’t want to discuss your sex life when it was you and random barflies, even less so now that it’s with Cas. But I know you guys haven’t—”

Cas raised his eyebrow at Dean from across the table, and Dean quickly realized the angel could hear every word.

“Woah, woah—” Dean interjected. “Can we go back to you not wanting to discuss my sex life please, baby brother?”

“It’s been nearly two months Dean. I’m just saying, Cas probably has wants and needs just like—”

“Okay, glad your safe, see you tomorrow!” Dean rushed before he hung up.

Cas, to his credit, lasted a full three seconds before he busted out laughing. Head hanging forward over his steak, he swiped roughly at his eyes and tried to straighten his face.

“Remind me to thank Sam that he’s so attentive to my needs,” he smirked, delighting in Dean’s mortified expression.

“Brothers,” Dean muttered, stabbing into his steak. “Glad I’ve only got one.”

Cas smirked as he picked up one of the fries Dean had lovingly made from scratch. “Sam is fine as a brother in this situation. Imagine Gabriel or Balthazar, if you will. I’m quite grateful these days that angel radio is long gone.”

Cas popped the fry into his mouth, chewing slowly. He smiled before he swallowed. “These are very good, Dean,” he added.

Dean grinned proudly, his chest almost puffing visibly for a moment. “Great! You’re pretty hard to please in the food department, Cas. It’s getting easier though, I think. I guess practice does make perfect, huh.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. He picked up another fry, but twiddled it lightly between his fingers rather than put it in his mouth. “I guess that’s true about a lot of things.”

Dean sensed that Cas was no longer talking about the food.

“Cas, I…” Dean trailed off.

The angel raised his hand, swallowing down a mouthful before he spoke. “It’s fine, Dean. We said we’d take this as slow as we needed to and I’m not rushing you at all. I know you—”

“I want to try,” Dean interrupted, suddenly very interested in his steak. Slicing into the medium-rare meat, he bit down on a large chunk, waiting for Cas’s reaction.

“Okay.”

When Dean looked up, Cas was smiling. Their eyes caught for a second, the nervously happy smile spreading between the two of them, before they both returned to their food.

 

***

 

Sammy was right, Dean realized. It had been two months. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, running his hand through his wet hair so it spiked up wildly.

A very good two months, he was forced to admit.

Everything so far had been easier than Dean expected it to be, more natural feeling than even made any sense. For the most part, life just carried on. They hunted and researched and hustled pool in bars. But now, he wasn’t alone.

Cas’s hand was there in his when they sat in the Impala together, though Sam still got to sit shotgun about half of the time.

Cas’s thigh was there next to his when they’d watch a movie late at night in his room, falling asleep with his head dropping down on to the angel’s shoulder. Cas would always pull the sheet up and tuck Dean in, moving to his chair or the library and leaving Dean to rest with no presumption of staying in Dean’s bed overnight, though Dean knew he wanted to.

Cas’s lips were there whenever there was a quiet moment. They’d learned the many types of kisses they could share; the comfort when things didn’t turn out how they expected, the apology when they fought over something dumb, the greeting when they’d been apart for a few hours. Dean knew both of them had a favorite kind of kiss, though—the increasingly heated kisses they shared just because they wanted to, just because they could, or just because they needed each other.

Dean was nervous. Not so much that Cas’s vessel was male—he’d seen enough porn to know how it all worked. But because if he took the next step, let those hot kisses lead him further, it was a line crossed that he felt like they could never come back from. They’d been friends for a decade, near enough. What if he fucked this up, just like everything else?

Sighing, Dean’s head dropped down, his elbows locked firmly as he leaned his weight down onto the edge of the sink.

 _I can’t fuck this up,_ he thought dully. _I just can’t. He means too much to me._

He knew that Cas was in love with him and that this was no passing phase for him—he’d known that two months ago, when Cas told him so in that motel room. But he hadn’t yet spoken those words back. He knew them to be true and, he supposed, so did Cas. It was implied by him choosing to enter this relationship in the first place, after Cas’s speech asking him to be sure, in that far motel in the dark. Saying it though, turned out to be harder.

 _Maybe,_ Dean thought, _that’s where I should start. If I want to have a sexual relationship with Cas, I need to let him know that I love him. Tell him now… tell him that I can’t let go of this, even if it gets weird for a while when we cross that line._

There was a knock on the communal bathroom door.

“Dean? Are you okay? You’ve been in there almost an hour.” Cas sounded concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good Cas. Just wanted to feel really clean,” Dean responded mildly through the door. _Not to put too fine a point on it._

Dean moved over to the bench on the wall where he’d left his clothes, beginning to pull them back on.

“Alright, Dean. I’ll go get the movie started and make some popcorn for you, if you’re almost done.”

“Okay, Sunshine,” Dean grinned affectionately, even though the angel couldn’t see him. “I’ll be right out.”

 

***

 

Cas was already settled on what Dean thought of as “his” side of the bed in Dean’s room, a bowl of popcorn balanced waiting on the other pillow. Wearing comfortable-looking pajama bottoms and a loose t-shirt that Sam had given him as a joke _(Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy!),_ the angel reclined with the TV remote in hand.

“Lord of the Rings,” he announced. “The first one. That’s what my doppelganger said we moved onto after finishing all of Star Trek and Star Wars.”

“Excellent,” Dean grinned. These movie nights had become a little tradition for them, a couple of times per week. It turned out that Cas really enjoyed watching TV with Dean, leaning into each other on top of the blanket. Even though Metatron had effectively spoilered every pop-culture book and film ever for him a couple of years before, he said that it was a different experience to actually watch, instead of just have the knowledge.

The evening rolled on contentedly. Dean looked over to Cas, finding him totally engrossed in the screen as Arwen thundered across the beautiful terrain on horseback, carrying Frodo away from the Nazghul.

The angel had a piece of popcorn in hand, but it rested uneaten in midair as he waited to see if Arwen and her ward would make it across the river.

Dean grinned at Cas’s almost childlike rapture at the screen.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s chest was suddenly light and tingling. _This is so easy,_ he thought. _Why do I always make things harder?_ The angel didn’t move, amazed as the waters rose up to Arwen’s aid.

“I love you.”

Dean smiled, the words tumbling from his lips almost eagerly, with far less effort than he ever thought they’d require.

He watched as Cas’s attention stuttered, taking in what Dean had said. He turned, looking across at him with a look that made the feeling in Dean’s chest build to bursting.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Cas sounded so happy, so very _relieved_ , that Dean almost cursed himself for making him wait for this. Pulling the angel across to him, wrapping his arms so tightly around him that it was probably uncomfortable, Dean crushed their lips together.

They kissed wantonly, the ring’s journey south to Rivendell forgotten as they finally showed each other everything; a decade of tension and need bubbling to the surface.

“I’m so stupid,” Dean gasped between kisses, one hand tangled in Cas’s hair as the fingers of the other spread across one of his cheeks. “This is all so easy and I keep making it difficult.”

“Then stop,” Cas mumbled through their kisses, one of his strong hands running down Dean’s side to pull at his hip, removing the last inches between them. Their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces, the picture finally clear.

A guttural groan bounced from deep in Dean’s chest at the motion, feeling every inch of Cas’s hard body pressed against him—some parts even harder than others.

With a wolfish grin, Dean sought Cas’s eyes. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you’re sure….” he slid a hand around to Castiel’s ass. His fingers curled into the fabric of Cas’s thin pajama pants as he pressed himself firmly back into him, letting him feel what Dean had to offer in turn. “You seem pretty sure that you want this.”

Cas answered with a roll of his hips, rubbing them together firmly but agonizingly slowly.

“Ooh,” Dean moaned breathily as Cas’s erection thrust up against his own, suddenly altogether too much fabric in the way.

“I want you, Dean,” Cas finally answered with a growl, his breath hot against Dean’s neck as he softly bit into it.

Dean knew there were things that would take longer, things that he _wanted_ to explore with Cas but just wasn’t ready for, but for now he needed his hands on him, needed to feel his weight and know that they belonged to each other.

Pushing himself up with an elbow, Dean quickly shed his t-shirt before any self-doubt could take root, reaching down to pull at the hem of Cas’s shirt too.

“I want to feel you against me,” he explained needlessly—Cas was already dropping his shirt to the floor, mentally in much the same place as Dean was.

Dean delighted in running his fingers over Cas’s marble stomach as their lips entwined again, before sliding his hand around to cup at his shoulder blade, pulling their torsos together. His skin felt warm to the touch, solid and unyielding as he once again rocked into Dean’s space with an unapologetic moan.

“Dean…” Cas breathed against Dean’s cheek. “I have wanted you for so long.” His hand slid up to Dean’s shoulder, softly gripping at the spot where once, years past, his hand had burned a brand into the Righteous Man’s skin. “Nothing changed that, through all the mistakes that we made. So nothing will.”

As if that was an answer to a question Dean hadn’t even asked, Cas moved decisively. One hand slipped down Dean’s chest, fingers trailing past the waistband of his drawstring pants and curling down around his cock without preamble. Cas’s other arm looped around Dean’s waist as he rolled, deftly positioning Dean above him.

A gasp of surprise erupted out of Dean at the sudden motion, tumbling into a moan as he felt Cas’s thumb tease across the head of his cock within his pants.

Leaning down to kiss at his angel again, Dean briefly sucked Cas’s lower lip into his mouth, teasing at it with his teeth. The rough kiss pulled a groan from Cas, his eyes closing for a moment in enjoyment.

Dean found he was out of breath when he spoke. “If we’re doing this…” he panted, lifting his hips to push his old sweat pants down, “Then we’re doing it right. Pants off, now.”

To his slight surprise, not to mention pleasure, Cas obeyed immediately. Lifting his own hips in turn he pushed the dark pajama pants down out of the way, kicking them off with ease. He lay back then, looking up at Dean with hooded eyes as his hand returned to its loose lock around Dean’s solid length. Cas trailed his thumb up and down the underside, sweeping across the already dampening hole at the tip each time he reached the top.

Dean shuddered slightly, wanting more.

“Is that good?” Cas questioned softly, his dilated blue eyes sweeping up and down to take in every inch of Dean as he held him straddled in his lap.

Dean had never felt so naked as when Cas looked at him like that.

“Fuck yes,” he admitted, gasping again. “I can’t believe I went so long without you touching me, without touching you,” he groaned, looking down to take Cas in hand.

It felt strangely alien to have Cas’s twitching cock in his palm. Cas had perhaps not quite as much length as Dean, but his cock was fat and solid, the head warm red under Dean’s thumb. His fingers tightened around the slight curve that fit perfectly into his grip, feeling familiar and yet strange. _He feels nice,_ Dean caught himself thinking. _Different but…really good._

Dean eagerly began to stroke out a rhythm between them. Cas mirrored his actions so that they tugged and even groaned in unison. Dean reached down to the angel’s other hand, entwining their fingers tightly.

It seemed like time sped up, a tightness pulling at Dean’s lower stomach long before he wanted it to be over.

“Cas…” he breathed out, holding the angel’s intense gaze. “I’m gonna come, do you want me to—” he looked around, seeking the box of kleenex he knew would he on the nightstand nearby.

“No,” Cas nearly growled, using his spare hand to quickly draw Dean’s eyes back to his. “On me.”

Dean nodded, fighting the sensation but not winning.

“You too, Cas,” he begged breathily. “Please.”

Cas gazed up at him for a moment, his eyes dark and his lips parted. Then he pushed up from the bed, pulling their chests closer as they both teetered close, locking his lips with Dean’s.

As they both spilled thick and dirty across the hot space between them, hands knocking together as they frantically finished, Dean couldn't help but be overwhelmed at how right it felt, with none of the awkwardness he'd feared.

Dean turned Cas’s face to the side. His lips pressed close to Cas’s ear, their cheeks flush.

As Cas held him, making small sounds as he pressed spent kisses into Dean's neck, Dean murmured the results of nearly a month’s hard studying into the warm, comfortable afterglow.

 _“Ol Gassagen, Olani hoath ol… olani, oai amiran. Ol g-chis-ge olgono od ol io-iad…._ ”

Cas’s utterly gobsmacked, delighted expression was all the thanks he needed. He flushed, burying his face in Dean’s neck and laughing softly.

It was as if, by just making these tiny steps to think of each other, they could finally just be who they were supposed to be all along.

 

**~The End~**

 

 

**Curious to find out more about what was going on in the alternate universe while this was all happening to Team Free Will and friends? Want to see Alt-Dean and Alt-Cas reunited with their Sam? Timestamps will be coming as soon as the DCBB rules allow!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Enochian Translations
> 
> Ol Gassagen, Olani hoath ol - My angel, I love you. 
> 
> Olani oai amiran. - I am yours.
> 
> Ol g-chis-ge olgono od ol io-iad - You are my faith and my forever.


End file.
